


A New Beginning Again

by srmiller



Series: Centenaria [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Character Driven Plot, Mild Angst, Multi, completed fic, established linctavia - Freeform, established minty - Freeform, established wicken, friendship to romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after leaving Camp Jaha, Clarke has returned. She wasn't sure what she'd expected but Bellamy's distance, Octavia's anger, and Raven's revelation that Bellamy had started drinking and not sleeping wasn't it.<br/>Bellamy hadn't known what he would do when Clarke came back--he'd understood her need to leave, to heal, but he also knew by walking away she'd left him to carry the weight of what they'd done in the mountain and he wasn't sure if he could trust her the same again.<br/>But Clarke brings back word from her meeting with the high commander of the Trikru at Polis and it's the kind of news which could change everything and if they're lucky, begin to make things right again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's return to Camp Jaha leaves Bellamy scolding his sister, wanting a drink, and fending off his best friend's insistence he talk about his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank [Kaley](http://leadingrebel.tumblr.com/post/128713059331) for the amazing art work she did for this fic, she did a phenomenal and I'm so honored to be able to share it with you.  
> 

Bellamy was sitting in his room just outside the Ark when Raven found him. The delinquents had taken up residence in a piece of the ark which had separated from the main ship, their own form of disconnection from the people who had almost left them in Mount Weather.

She barreled into his room, her now trademark limp not slowing her down in the least. “You need to get out here. Now.”

Not surprised, Bellamy pushed off from his bed and followed Raven’s ponytail out of his room and down the short hallway which was open to the elements. He could already hear the noise, people yelling and the unmistakable sound of a scuffle before he was even outside.

“Who started what with whom?”

The glance over his shoulder, caution mixed worry, sent a warning to his brain. “Octavia, and with Clarke.”

He stopped walking.

It had been six months since Clarke had left and they’d heard nothing from her. The only reason they even knew she might still be alive was because a wandering group of Trikru had talked about the blonde who had taken down a mountain meeting with those in charge at Polis.

That had been two months ago.

“I don’t understand.”

“No one does. She just showed up and when Octavia saw her, she punched her. Clarke was so shocked she didn’t even try to block it.”

“How—“ the words caught in his throat, shock he thought, because he never thought he’d see her again. “How does she look?”

“Well, right now she looks like she’s getting her ass kicked which is why I came for you.” Raven grabbed his hand and pulled him the last few feet where Lincoln was already pulling a swinging Octavia off Clarke.

“What the hell?”

Bellamy felt as much as saw the entire group turn to look at him. He kept his own gaze pinned on Octavia. “Care to explain?”

“She left,” was all Octavia would say before she shook off Lincoln’s loose grip and stalked away. The group’s attention swiveled briefly to follow the two before returning to Bellamy and Clarke.

Bellamy wasn’t sure what they were expecting, but whatever kind of show they were hoping to get wasn’t going to happen.

“I think you’ve all got stuff to do,” he reminded them.  Reluctantly they started to disperse.  Instead of walking away, Monty stepped forward to hug Clarke, who gave him a tight, sad smile as she returned it.

For a moment they both just held on.

As he left, he passed Bellamy, meeting his eyes briefly as he did so. “Don’t be hard on her.”

Feeling slightly insulted by the advice, Bellamy rolled his eyes. But when he turned his attention back to Clarke, he saw she looked at him with a kind of apprehension he’d never seen on her face. Despite having imagined this moment a few hundred times he realized he had no idea what to do, what to say but it was clear the days of her running and jumping into his arms were apparently long gone.

“So, you’re back.”

She nodded.

Her hair was longer, and for some reason it surprised him. Some part of him expected her to stay the same as the image he’d kept in his head of her, with her hair just past the shoulders with two braids to keep it out of her face.

Now there were a dozen braids woven in to her hair, but unlike Octavia’s there seemed to be no real reason for the braids as they fell down her back to her elbows.

He wanted to think she looked beautiful, but mostly she just looked tired.

“Have you seen your mom?”

She shook her head, “I came here first.”

“I think we’ve got a spare room since Miller moved in with Monty. Do you have any stuff?”

Clarke held out her empty hands as if to show she had nothing but the clothes, and not the same clothes she’d left in, on her back. He nodded acknowledgement.

“We’ll get you set up. Unless you want to be closer to your mom.”

“No, I belong here.”

He nodded again, stuffing his hands in his pockets because he wasn’t sure what else to do with them. “Come on then.”

Turning on his heel, he went back into the fallen ship with Clarke close behind him. She quickened her pace until she was walking beside him. “How is everyone?”

“Everyone’s good. Haven’t lost anyone since we got back.”

“That’s good.”

“Heard you were in Polis.”

She jerked at the information. “How did you know?”

“Some Trikru passed through, told us.”

Bellamy didn’t mention each time a member of Trikru traveled near the camp he’d asked Lincoln to see if they knew anything about a blonde girl, one of the Sky People, traveling alone. It had been four months of fear and worry, wondering if she was okay until a group had confirmed they’d seen her.

At the time, he hadn’t been sure if he was more relieved or angry but as time passed he just hoped if she couldn’t come home she was at least okay, wherever she was. Looking at her now, he wasn’t sure if either of them were okay.

“It was an interesting experience,” she said after the silence had stretched out too thin for comfort. “One I need to talk to you about.”

He nodded and stopped at a door. “When you get settled we can talk. You should probably go find your mom, she’s usually cleaning up the medic room this time of day. I’ll find you later when I’ve got time.”

When he moved to walk away she reached out to stop him and the contact, that single place where her hand rested on his arm, seemed to burn. He couldn’t help when his eyes were drawn to her hand first before he pulled them up to meet her gaze.

“It’s good to see you again, Bellamy.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Good to see you too, princess.”

Before he could do or say anything stupid-he wasn’t sure what, just knew it was a possibility-he walked away. Raven cornered him as soon as he stepped out of the ship.

“How are you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I told you,” Wick quipped from just behind Raven. Bellamy kind of wished they’d both go away. “You two are so much alike, it’s no wonder you’re best friends.”

“Shut up,” Raven ordered over her shoulder before turning her attention back on Bellamy and when she reached out lay long fingers on his arm in a show of comfort there was no burning sensation, just a kind of calm. “I know it’s got to be weird having her back after all this time.”

Bellamy ignored the concern even though he appreciated it. Right now he had other things he needed to deal with. “Do either of you know where my delinquent sister is?”

“Lincoln dragged her off in that direction,” Wick answered, waving towards the area which was used primarily for training.  

Good, Bellamy thought. Since it was getting to be early evening it would likely be empty, so at least he could talk to Octavia without an audience

“Thanks.”

As he walked away, he overheard Raven muttering, “If I have to talk about _my_ issues, then so does Bellamy.”

The words coupled with Wick’s impatient sigh in response made Bellamy smile in spite of everything. Although they’d had their share of trouble since coming back, it was obvious Wick adored Raven. No matter how often she might roll her eyes and deny it, Bellamy thought she was in it for the long haul with the engineer.

As far as Bellamy knew, the L-word hadn’t been spoken. Thanks to his shit luck, Raven was in fact his best friend and she’d have told him, likely in a state of panic, if either of them had said it.  Spoken or not, though, it was there every time they looked at each other.

Damned if Bellamy didn’t envy them a little.

In the clearing behind the Hundred’s bunks, Octavia was arguing with Lincoln. Or rather, she was arguing _at_ Lincoln, since he seemed to be mostly letting her rant and rave without so much as a nod in return.

“Feel good to sucker punch someone?” Bellamy asked as he crossed his arms.

Octavia whirled on him, sparks in her dark eyes. “Yes.”

“I’m going to leave you to it,” Lincoln told Bellamy as he turned to head back the way Bellamy had come.

“Coward,” Octavia accused to his retreating form.

“I know when to stop hitting my head on a tree,” he called back.

As Bellamy waited until Lincoln was out of earshot, he studied his sister.

She’d changed so much in the ten months since they’d landed, from the girl with the soft hair and wide eyes to the grounder with greasepaint on her face. She’d found some in-between in the half year since taking down the mountain, and she and Lincoln both had found a way to mesh their grounder instincts with life outside the Trikru.

There was still a hardness, a fierceness, in his little sister but she’d put away the paint and kept the sword. Let down her hair and kept the braids. She was Octavia, he thought, as she was meant to be, fiercely loyal and ready for a fight and while he’d have preferred her to retain her innocence a little long he couldn’t be anything but fiercely proud of her.

Most of the time anyway.

“What were you thinking, O?” he asked.

“I was thinking she left,” she snapped. There was so much anger and fury in her eyes.  Bellamy wished he could feel half as much as she did, but just the thought of it was exhausting. “I was thinking she walked away without looking back and didn’t give one good damn about the mess she was leaving behind.”

“You know why she left.”

In fact, everyone did. After the wounded had been treated and the remaining survivors of the Hundred had settled in, Bellamy had told Abby and Kane what had happened in the mountain and what he and Clarke and Monty had been forced to do to save their people.

Within a week, the entire camp knew.

“You stayed,” she bit out.

“Someone had to.”

“Exactly! Why couldn’t she? Instead she left you here, alone, to face all this shit by yourself.”

 _Shit_ being people from the Ark looking at him as if he was madman about to go on a killing spree, _shit_ was people giving him a wide birth as if he possessed something which could infect them. _Shit_ was how there had been a council meeting on whether or not he should be allowed to carry a gun.

When they’d thought to take the gun he’d brought back with him from the mountain _(no one was allowed to carry firearms not issued by the council and no one was allowed to keep one in their rooms)_ he’d told Abby in no uncertain terms he’d fought for the gun, had survived because of it, and was able to save them and the rest of the Sky People because of it.

In the end, they’d let him keep it but Bellamy could, to this day, feel the stares at his back from people wondering what he was capable of and what he’d do next.

“I wasn’t alone,” he reminded her.

She sighed and some of the anger eased out of her shoulders, “While I appreciate the sentiment Bell, we both know it wasn’t the same. I didn’t live through it like you did. I didn’t pull back the lever with her. You needed her.”

“And she needed to go,” he told her softly. “I couldn’t ask her to stay.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” she argued. “The only reason you pulled it with her was so she didn’t have to carry it alone. Instead she left you to carry it all.”

“She carried it too, O.” His voice was harder now, more of the big brother he’d always been to her. “You think she was gone for the past six months because she wanted to be? You think she wanted to leave everything and everyone she knew behind and go out on her own because she thought it would be a fun adventure? She carried it, and she carried it the only way she knew how.”

“She should have been here for you,” Octavia told him. “She was a coward, Bell, for leaving when she should have stayed.”

Her voice unwavering and Bellamy heard Lincoln’s voice in his head. _‘I know when to stop hitting my head on a tree.’_ There wouldn’t be any changing her mind and there was a piece of him which couldn’t thank her enough for her loyalty.

“If I can’t change your mind, can I at least ask you not to go around starting fights? If you can’t be nice then please, just avoid her.”

“Fine, but if she thinks for one second she’s going to step back into her old role as if she’d never left, she’d better have another think coming.”

And that, Bellamy thought as Octavia stalked away, was one thing they could both agree on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hadn't known what to expect, coming home after 6 months but this...this wasn't it.

It was hardly the welcome back she’d expected, Clarke thought with a sigh as she leaned against the door to her new room.

Most of the people she’d been with in the mountain had reached out and hugged her. Harper had grinned from ear to ear and squeezed her so hard she thought she might pop. Raven had been about to step forward and give her a hug when she’d been knocked to the ground. As she’d processed the pain throbbing in her jaw, she’d looked up to see Octavia Blake standing over her. Brave, valiant Octavia.

They’d never been friends, since their first interaction during which Octavia had coined ‘princess’ with a sneer they’d had a wary respect for the other. The biggest thing they’d had in common was Bellamy which, ironically, was the reason Octavia had laid her flat within minutes of coming back to camp.

After a moment of stunned silence, Lincoln had grabbed Octavia and by the time Miller had helped Clarke up, Bellamy was standing at the edge of the group.

Of all the reactions she’d expected to her return, the distant and hesitant look in Bellamy’s eyes hadn’t even made her list. It almost made her wish for Octavia and her anger, at least that was the kind of pain she knew would fade with time.

On her way back to Camp Jaha she’d thought about she’d say, to her mother, to the hundred. To Bellamy. But when she’d tested them out-she’d gotten used to talking to herself in the quiet wilderness-they all sounded wrong, stilted, scripted. She’d been so certain when she saw him the words would just be there.

Instead the conversation, if it could even be called that, was as short and halting as if they were strangers.

And then he’d walked away.

Fighting back tears, she shut her eyes, determined to keep her emotions in check. So maybe she’d expected a hug, expected to see him smile, expected…. Well, that was her own fault wasn’t it?

Pushing away from the door, she made her way to the med clinic where Bellamy had said her mom would be, managing tight smiles to everyone who greeted her on her way. It all looked the same, dirt-covered ship dug into the earth, evergreens reaching towards the sky, gates wrapped around camp to keep out the enemy.

The gates made her feel closed in, closed off, her skin too tight around her bones.

It was hard to breathe.

“Clarke!” her mother shouted.

Looking up, Clarke saw her mother, hair cut to barely brush her shoulders, running towards her.

 _Here,_ she thought. _Here was home._

Strong arms banded around her and Clarke hugged her mother back, relishing the familiar smell of the antiseptic she’d always associated with her mother.

“Mom.”

“When did you get back?” Abby asked, pulling back. “What happened to you? You look so thin.” She reached up and tilted Clarke’s head down to study her face, “What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine, Mom. I promise.”

Abby’s long fingers framed her face, tears filling dark brown eyes. “Are you?”

Clarke found she couldn’t lie, and her own eyes prickled with tears, a few sliding down cheeks she knew were dirty. “I’m getting there.”

On a laugh, Abby hugged her again. Over her mother’s shoulder, Clarke saw Kane standing not too far away. With him were a small crowd of smiling observers, all watching the reunion.  

“Come on, you’re probably starving. Let’s get you something to eat.”

Clarke let her mother drag her towards the mess area and fill up a tray of food Clarke wasn’t sure she could eat. She’d lived on little in the past month as she’d made her way home, and so much heavy and cooked food was sure to make her sick.

She picked at it as her mother caught her up what happened in her absence: there hadn’t been any attacks by the grounders, they’d gotten more radios online and had built shower stalls for regular bathing. They were working on a public broadcast system and there was talking about trying to figure how to get the vehicles they’d found running again.

More had changed than Clarke had thought.

“You should go and see your friends when you’re done eating,” Abby suggested.

“I already have,” Clarke assured her mom as she pushed away the plate, the queasiness in her stomach telling her she’d already eaten more than she should have.

“What?”

Clarke looked up at the sudden chill in her mother’s voice.

“I went by to see them as soon as I got here,” Clarke admitted, knowing she shouldn’t have said it even as she spoke. “Bellamy showed me a room I could use and told me where I could find you.”

“I see,” Abby stood up and Clarke got up to follow her mother.

“I’m sorry. I just needed to make sure they were all right. I needed-“ Clarke stopped herself knowing what she was about to say wouldn’t make the situation even better.

She’d needed to see Bellamy.

“So after you disappeared for six months without saying goodbye, I didn’t even get to be the person you came home to.”

Clarke grabbed her mom’s arm to turn her around but when Abby faced her, Clarke wondered if maybe she’d have been better off letting her walk away.

“It was irresponsible and reckless!” Abby yelled. “We didn’t even know if you were alive! Six months and we had no word from you. Do you understand what that’s like, Clarke? To wonder every day if my daughter was alive or dead?”

Clarke felt guilt settle around her heart at the look of anguish on her mother’s face and in the back of her mind she remembered Bellamy had known where she was. Bellamy had asked.

But she didn’t have the energy to wonder if Bellamy should have told her mom, if her mom should have asked the Trikru like Bellamy had. “I’m sorry to have worried you, but it was what I needed to heal, after the mountain. After everything.”

Abby sighed and Clarke hope that would be the end of it but instead her mother stepped forward and there was something about the way she moved which set Clarke’s instincts on edge.

“From now on I’ll ask you talk to me before leaving camp.”

“Excuse me?” Clarke asked, her voice teetering somewhere between baffled and angry. “Are you seriously trying to ground me?”

There was a range of emotions traveling over her mother’s face, too quickly for Clarke to pinpoint why her mother had gone from a welcoming hug to the cold chill in her voice. “I’m simply saying it’s going to take some time before I can trust you’re not going to run off again. Also, I’d like you to resume your medical internship with me starting tomorrow. Please be there promptly after breakfast.”

 ##############################

 Clarke wandered back to the tables and sat back down in the seat she’d vacated only moments ago. Almost instantly, Raven set a small cup in front of Clarke and sat across her.

“Unfortunately Monty’s moonshine is a delinquent secret but here’s some coffee. You looked like someone just kicked you.”

Clarke sighed, “My mom.”

“Fuck.” Raven’s cup stopped halfway to her mouth. “The coffee will have to do until we can get you some moonshine.”

Clarke nodded and took a small sip from her cup. She was surprised by how good the coffee tasted, they’d improved on the recipe since she’d been gone. “How are you? We didn’t get a chance to catch up earlier.”

“I’m doing okay,” Raven shrugged. “Your mom did what she could to fix me up. I can walk, obviously, but it hurts more often than not. It’s always going to, I guess, but as my boyfriend likes to remind it’s better than being dead.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” But when Clarke only continued to stare Raven laughed, “I guess you weren’t really around for that development. I’m with Kyle. Wick? The engineer.”

Clarke had a vague memory of blonde hair and a grin. “And he makes you happy?”

“Happy, annoyed, exhausted,” the brunette smiled, drinking deeply from her cup. “I like him enough to keep him around. Let’s see, what else can I catch you up on? Monty and Miller are together now, which was a surprise to no one. Harper and Lee have been dating for the past two months, which was a surprise. Neither Murphy or Jaha have been heard of since they left, and no one is sad. I’m pretty sure your mom and Kane are sleeping together, but I don’t have proof, and Bellamy has had nightmares almost every night for the past six months.”

Raven smirked when Clarke’s eyes snapped up to meet hers.

“What?”

“Yeah. Whenever Kane visits Abby in the med room they’re always standing close together and whenever he gives her something their hands are always touching. Like I said, I haven’t caught them in the act, but something is definitely going on there.”

Clarke shook her head. “You know that’s not what I meant. Is Bellamy okay?”

“He killed a few hundred people, Clarke,” Raven reminded her, the casualness in her voice somehow making her words all the more harsh. “And instead of dealing with it he let you run off to Polis or wherever and kept us together because he couldn’t do both. He drinks a lot too, but Monty’s been watering down the moonshine so at least he’s not killing his liver. Yet.”

Raven stood up, her leg a little wobbly and Clarke saw the familiar sense of humor in her friend’s eyes when she smiled. “Been on my leg all day,” she explained as she regained her balance. “By the way, I put some clothes in your room that should fit you. Let me know if anything doesn’t work.”

The news robbed the coffee of its taste. Leaving it on the table, Clarke left the mess, wandering without any real destination in mind.

If she hadn’t already saved up a couple dozen terrible days, this one might have actually made it to the top ten. She was sure coming back meant coming home, but despite how alone she’d been over the course of the past six months, she’d never felt this isolated.

“How’s the jaw?”

Clarke jumped at the deep voice and looked up and over to see Lincoln hanging around the entrance to the hundred’s bunks.

“I’ve had worse,” she said cautiously. “You’re not going to yell at me too, are you?”

Lincoln pulled out a small flask from his pocket and held it out to her. “No. I’d say you’re beating yourself up just fine on your own. If not, I’d say Octavia’s punch earlier took care of the rest.”

Clarke accepted the flask, sliding down the wall of the ship to sit on the ground next to him before taking a long drink.  The moonshine burned its way down, stronger than anything she’d had in the past six months. Between coughs, she got out, “You’d be the only one who thinks that.”

“They don’t know how hard it is to leave.”

She at him, surprised, and handed the flask back to him. “I didn’t even think.”

He shrugged, “No else has either.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he assured her as he patted her knee, and there was enough sincerity in his voice she almost believed him. “I prefer to think they’re so used to me being one of them they forget I wasn’t always. I know what it’s like to walk away because you have to, though. Because you don’t think you can be yourself and stay.”

“I don’t think I was me when I left,” she admitted with a sigh. “In fact, I think it was me I was running from.”

“Did you catch up with yourself?”

She laughed quietly, “Yeah. That’s why I came back, I just couldn’t run anymore. But now that I’m back I’m not sure if it was the best idea. They’re not exactly happy I’m home.”

“Just keeping knocking on their doors. Eventually they’ll open. In the meantime, I thought you could use this.”

In the darkness Clarke couldn’t be sure what it was, though at first glance it looked like a book with a leather cover. Tilting it towards the moonlight she flipped through the pages and found each of them empty.

“Lincoln,” she breathed, stunned at the gift.

“I heard you used to draw, and I remember how it got me through the lowest of my lows. I thought maybe it could do the same for you.” He untied the string which ran along the book’s spine. To Clarke’s surprise, the top of the spine came up like a lid. Lincoln took her hand, stretched it out, and tilted the book until pieces of charcoal fell in to her palm.

“That’s smart.”

He brushed away her praise. “Hard to lose the charcoal when it’s in the book. If you run out let me know. I’ve got more.”

Clarke brushed her hand along the book in a kind of caress. Though she knew she probably looked crazy, she couldn’t help it.

For the first time in a long time she didn’t feel like she was drowning.

Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, and she hoped her words could express even an ounce of the gratitude she felt. “Thank you, Lincoln.”

 ##############################

When Raven walked into the room she shared with Wick relief flooded her.  

Relief he was there when he said he would be, relief he was such a habitual person she knew he’d be doodling on spare paper, relief when he looked up and smiled as he saw her.

“Hey wrench monkey.”

She smiled back but the instant she took a step forward, his faded. She had no idea how he could tell she was hurting, but before she took another step, he was beside her, helping her to the bed.

“How bad’s the pain?” he asked.

“About an eight.”

He sighed. “Take off your pants.”

“You know, I miss the days when that was a come on.”

Grinning, Wick helped her slide off her pants and sit down on the bed, swinging her legs up to rest on the blankets. “I promise to come on to you when we get the pain down to a four.”

“Appreciate it.”

As Raven laid back on the bed, Wick wrapped his hands around her injured thigh and began to massage the aching muscle the way Lincoln had demonstrated a few months back

“Thought you were going to be back earlier.”

She winced as his fingers worked a particularly painful part but she knew the temporary pain would bring relief through the night and keep her from cramping and waking them both up. “I ran into Clarke.”

His hands paused for an instant, then began again as he sighed. “Are you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“Bellamy’s my friend. Ow!”

He stopped pressing on the muscle just beneath the nasty scar on her leg and moved his fingers slightly to the left. “Sorry. Friend or not, don’t you think this is something they need to work out themselves?”

“They can’t work it out if they don’t know there’s a problem,” she pointed out. “Oh, my god, right there.”

She saw him smile at her approval. If it made her heart a little fluttery it was to be expected. “I just want him to stop looking so sad,” she admitted. “And she doesn’t look much better.”

“They’ll heal, babe, it just takes time.”

Raven nodded, biting back her knee-jerk instinct to make a snarky quip and grabbed his hand, “Sometimes it takes time and sometimes it’s just having the right person helping you through it.”

His smile this time was slow and warm, making her heart flutter again. “Careful there, wrench monkey. I’m going to start thinking you’re fond of me.”

She reached up and took a fistful of his shirt to pull him down to her. “What can I say? You’re really good with your hands.”

Laughing, he pressed his lips against hers. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Where’s the pain at?”

“Down to a five.”

“Let’s see if we can get it down to that four in the next five minutes. I’ve been thinking about you since this morning and it’s kind of been driving me crazy.”

Grinning, Raven put one hand on his neck and braced herself with the other so she could kiss him properly. “Screw the four, you can put those hands to better use.”

Kissing her back, he slid his hand back up her thigh but this time in a teasing caress. “Whatever you say, babe,” he murmured.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke corners Bellamy and tells him they need to talk and he's reminded of the old Clarke when she refuses to take no for an answer...It shouldn’t be this easy to find their rhythm again, it shouldn’t hurt this much.

Bellamy walked through the tables scattered around the mess area but didn’t have the stomach for food. Maybe he’d head over to the gate house and see if there was anything which needed doing. If he was lucky, someone was going to go hunting and he could get out of the gates which felt like they were closing in on him.

“Bellamy?”

Stopping at the sound of Clarke’s voice, he turned to see her staring at him. In an instant, he flashed back eight months to right after they’d fallen, when she’d come up to him all hip cocked and smirking, daring him not to look the coward while she went to look for Jasper.

The punch to the gut was more than he’d felt in weeks.

“Need something, princess?”

She either didn’t hear the hard, mocking tone in his voice or she chose to ignore it because she stepped closer to him, head tilted up to meet his eyes.

 _Fuck,_ he thought as he met those ever changing blue eyes. He’d missed her.

“We still need to talk.”

“Right,” he nodded, shifting back on his feet to put a little more distance between them. “About Polis.”

“Among other things. Are you busy?”

“No, he’s free.”

Bellamy turned to glare at Raven but he immediately put away the irritation when he saw Raven using her crutches. Wick, who stood behind her with both their food trays, shook his head when Bellamy glanced at him so he didn’t ask her what was wrong.

“No one asked you,” he reminded her.

She managed a shrug, “And yet, still I speak. He’s free for the most of the day, but if you need him for longer we can get his stuff covered.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Clarke’s face soften with a smile. “Thanks, Raven, I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” she said, smiling back, clearly enjoying herself.  Her crutches creaked as she moved away. “Just don’t kill each other.”

Wick moved to follow her, but Bellamy stopped him. “Is she okay?”

Glancing to make sure Raven was out of earshot, Wick shook his head, “Bad morning. I’m going to try and convince her to take off early today, but we’ll see how it goes.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

Wick nodded, hurrying to catch up to his girlfriend before she noticed he’d fallen behind.

Bellamy turned back to Clarke and threw up his hand in defeat when he saw the stubborn look in her eyes hadn’t changed. “Looks like I’m all yours.”

There was a flicker of worry in her eyes. That he could still notice and recognize all her little shifts of expression surprised him. “I talked to her last night and she said she was good. Is she not?”

There was such honest concern in her voice.  Bellamy marveled at how stupidly easy it was to slip into their pattern of taking care of their people. He was pretty certain falling back on old habits wasn’t exactly healthy for either of them.

Screw it, he was too tired to care.

“I’d say 60% of the time she’s okay, but the other forty she’s in a shit load of pain. Wick and Lincoln do what they can to help while your mom tries to figure out a long term solution. Raven’s tough, she’ll push through.”

“I know,” Clarke nodded, crossing her arms as she watched Raven sitting at a table with her boyfriend, her leg stretched out on Wick’s lap. “I just hate to see her hurting.”

“Yeah. You should have seen her right after she got back.”

Clarke winced at the barb. Bellamy wished there weren’t so many people around so he could take a drink from the flask he kept in his back pocket and wash away the sharp taste of guilt in the back of his throat. “You want to catch up, let’s catch up. We’ll grab a table.”

But she didn’t move. “We can grab breakfast if you want, but I was thinking some place a little more private.”

“I’m not hungry. Did you have a specific place in mind?”

“The drop ship.”

It was a challenge. He wasn’t sure how, or why, but his immediate gut refusal and her knowing and slightly amused look was all the reason he needed to straighten his shoulders. “I’ll grab a gun, you grab a pack. I’ll meet you at the gate in five.”

She nodded but when he stepped away she grabbed his arm. This time her touch on his skin didn’t burn as badly as it had the night before. “I’m going to give you fair warning. If you try to ditch me between now and then, I’ll just follow you around all day.”

He smiled despite himself, “Promises, promises.”

They went their separate way and After he’d grabbed his gun and checked in with Miller’s dad, Bellamy headed towards the gate, only to be stopped by an all but vibrating Octavia and he knew his sister well enough recognize her barely reined in temper.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“Going for a walk,” he informed her casually. Skirting her, he continued on his way, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes when she fell into step beside him. “You wanting to come with?”

“Like hell,” she bit out. “What are you doing going anywhere with her?”

“She said she needed to talk.”

“You can talk here.”

Bellamy laughed, “What, are you afraid she’s going to kidnap me?”

“I’m afraid she’s going to sweet talk her way back in to your good graces after she left you high and dry and the princess isn’t going to have to pay any consequences for her actions.”

“What actions are those, Octavia?” Bellamy asked, turning on her suddenly enough she brace herself. “The actions that saved our friends? The actions that saved anyone else from being kidnapped, tortured, and drained of their blood? Those actions?”

“No,” Octavia conceded. “She did what she did and I don’t have a problem with that. What I do have a problem with is her coming back here like everything’s going to be the same, like nothing’s changed.”

“We already talked about this, O. I’m in charge now, I’m not going to hand that over to her just because she says pretty please.”

“You smiled.”

Bellamy blinked, tilting his head as he tried to figure out what the hell his sister was talking about. “What?”

“I saw you talking to her,” Octavia said. “And you smiled.”

“So?”

“So?” Her laugh lacked any resemblance to humor. “So, do you know when the last time you smiled was? I do. It was a month ago when that five year old Ark kid picked a fight with Wick. The other time was two months before _that_ , when Monty and Miller started dating and acted like it would be this huge shock to everyone.”

“What is your point?”

“My point is, she’s back less than 24 hours and you’re smiling and laughing. You’ve already forgiven her, Bell, and she never even said she was sorry.” She paused, eyeing him as if taking aim before she spat out her next words. Oh, and don’t forget to fill up your flask before you leave. I’d hate for you to get the shakes on your way back.”

“What the hell, Octavia-“

Turning on her heel, his sister walked away, ignoring him. Bellamy stood for a moment, cursing under his breath, before Clarke came up to him.

“You ready to go?” she asked.

“You in some kind of hurry?” he snapped.

“Yes. My mom ordered me to restart my medical internship with her this morning, and she also informed me I was to check in with her before I left camp. I want to get out of here before the guards are told not to let me out.”

Bellamy stared at Clarke, not quite believing what he was hearing. “She’s trying to put you on lock down. You, who survive a fall to earth, blew up a ship, escaped a mountain and made a pact with the grounders to go to war?”

Clarke shrugged, “She’s pissed I didn’t say goodbye and that when I came back I saw you before I went to see her.”

He wondered if she’d realized she’d said ‘you’ instead of ‘you guys’ and if he should read anything to it.

Christ, he wanted a drink. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy head back to the dropship and Clarke gives him news which change the delinquent's lives forever

They walked through the first half of the trek in silence and it was so familiar Clarke felt a little ache in her chest. Instead of pushing it away, she allowed herself to feel each ragged edge around her heart. Though painful, the sensation made her feel alive and whole. Right now, that seemed an important thing to remember.

Bellamy moved ahead of her through the woods, heading for the dropship. “Any reason you picked the drop ship for our powwow?”

“Less chance we’ll be overheard.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, a question in his raised eyebrows, and she knew she’d piqued his interest. “Don’t want the adults to hear what you did in the big city? Exactly how much trouble did you get yourself in?”

“Hardly any,” she admitted. “But I spoke with the high commander while I was there.”

“Lexa’s superior?”

“Everyone’s superior,” she corrected. “I had a couple of meetings with her and it wasn’t what I expected.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bellamy stopped abruptly on a small rise, then turned to face her. She craned her neck up to see his face. “You’re really going to make me wait till we get to the dropship?”

“It feels right,” she explained with a shrug. “Going back to the beginning.”

His dejected sigh made her wonder if he shared her feelings of regret and longing for those long gone days. “We can’t go back, Clarke.”

“I know.”

Heaving another sigh, he continued up the steep incline. When they got to the top Clarke found enough breath to ask, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot."

“Where’s Jasper? I didn’t see him last night or this morning.”

This time, Bellamy stopped walking so suddenly Clarke would have run into him if she hadn’t been paying attention. “He doesn’t stay with us.”

The meaning took a moment to sink in. “Oh.”

“Yeah. He hasn’t spoken a single word to Monty since we got back,” Bellamy admitted, and there was regret and sadness on Monty’s behalf in his voice. “It’s good he’s got Miller because I don’t think Monty would be okay without him.”

“I never thought I’d see the day Monty and Jasper weren’t Monty and Jasper.”

“The only delinquent he talks to is Raven, but she won’t tell me why. He got a tattoo.”

“Who? Jasper? How?”

Bellamy shifted the gun in his hands so he could point to his right forearm, “Maya’s name, right there. One of the Arkers figured how to get a tattoo gun working and Jasper was basically the first in line.”

And he’d picked Maya’s name to be inked on his skin. The dedication and grief which led Jasper to do something so permanent wasn’t lost on Clarke. “He’s never going to forgive me.”

“Me, you, Monty.” Bellamy shrugged. “Don’t worry, princess. You’re not the only one he hates.”

He pulled a small flask from his back pocket, took a quick pull from the bottle, then slipped it back into place. Remembering what Raven had said about Bellamy’s drinking, Clarke wondered if she should say something. Was it even her place to say something anymore? Before she could decide, though, he readjusted the gun and turned back to the trail.

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

##############################

Raven moved through the small crowd of people in the med clinic (she’d left her crutches behind because they were pissing her off) to where Wick was having a conversation with a short med-tech who sported a massive beard.

Wick was grinning broadly, which seemed to be his default. Despite the fact he was covered in dirt and had a cut over his eye, he looked to be having a great time. She’d just decided she’d head back out and find him later when he caught her eye, winked, then waved her over.

God, she really was in love with the idiot.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” she told him when she got to his side.

“I’m almost done here if you want to hang around for a second,” and as if that settled it, he slipped his arm over shoulders. Although the open gesture of affection made her feel a little ridiculous, she still relished the feeling of being held tight against his side.

With half an ear, she followed the conversation, a discussion about removing parts of the ship they couldn’t use because they were three miles in the air and using the metal to build a medical facility. Most of her attention, though, was caught by the comings and goings of the med-techs and the patients.

These Sky People were taking a long time to get used to the ground, she thought, smiling wryly. They were constantly eating the wrong things, falling, and being bitten by river creatures. Even Wick had done better than most of these goons.

As if he knew she was thinking of him, Raven felt Wick’s lips brush against the shell of her ear. “You okay?”

She was grateful he’d kept his voice low enough so the bearded guy couldn’t hear. Although he’d massaged her leg again before they’d gone to sleep, a nightmare had awakened her in middle of the night. Disoriented from the dream, she’d promptly fallen out of the bed.

Afterwards, he’d massaged her leg one more time, working the muscle and hitting pressure points until the pain subsided, but the pains shooting through her leg were so sharp she could barely work.

“I’m fine. I was just coming to tell you I’m probably going to clock out early and head back to the barracks.”

His smile fading, he leaned down to press a kiss against her temple. “I’ll walk you back.”

Wick made his excuses to the tech and helped her out, keeping her close against him. At the door, Raven stopped. “Wait. Did you come in here for the cut on your forehead?”

He touched the injury, chagrined. “Shit. Forgot about it.”

She laughed into his shoulder. “Only you would come to the med room and forget to get medical treatment. Engineers,” she mocked affectionately. “Making everything harder than it needs to be.”

Wick stopped walking and turned, stepping closer instead of pulling her against him and she once again marveled at him. He didn’t move her, he never did, instead he always adjusted himself to where she was because he knew with her bad leg and back if she moved to quickly it would be painful.

She didn’t think she’d ever had someone who so naturally made concessions for her, and what’s more, who never make her feel like a burden or a hassle because of it.

“You’ve got your thinking face on,” he pointed out, tapping her nose.

Raven smiled and shook her head, her hair free from its almost ever present tail. “Just thinking I might keep you around for a while.”

Wick laughed and framed her face to give her a smack on the lips, “Well then, I guess I don’t have to worry about making sure you’re happy when we get home, huh? And here I was going to put in some extra effort.”

“Feel free to put in some extra effort,” she suggested, wrapping her arm around his middle when he started them walking again. “You can save it up for the next time you piss me off.”

"How come you never have to save up good times for when you piss me off?”

“Because I’m cuter than you.”

With a laugh he shook his head as they stepped out into the sunshine. “Fair enough.”

##############################

When they stepped into the clearing Clarke could feel her nerves settling, her heart rate slow down. Home, she thought with a welcomed pang in her gut. Camp Jaha held her family, but this was her home.

Wind and rain had removed the ash from the ground and the trees. With the skeletons buried, the only remaining evidence of what had happened here was the blackened edges of the dropship and the singed branches of the trees that had been too close to the fire.

She watched Bellamy take it in and wondered if he’d been back in the eight months since the attack. She wondered if that’s what he thought about with those serious eyes and blank expression. While he’d been in the mountain as their secret weapon Raven had told her how Kane had found Bellamy and Murphy here, tied them up and locked in them in a room in the Ark. Was that gave him that hard look? Or was it one of the other horrible memories they’d made here?

When he set his gun against a tree it was that more than anything else that told her he considered himself safe here.

“So. Give it up princess, what was so important we couldn’t be overheard?”

“The Trikru are giving us land.”

Bellamy blinked and she could see the information hadn’t registered. “Huh?”

“The high commander found out what Lexa did. How she’d given her word to help and then turned her back on us. She may have done what was right for her people, but she didn’t do what was right according to their culture.”

“You mean when she went back on her word?”

“Right. It was dishonorable. She was relieved of her command. The high commander offered us ten acres of land as payment for the lives lost and as an apology for their people letting us down.”

Bellamy let out a low whistle.

“Exactly. But there’s a catch.”

He rolled his eyes and rocked back on his heels as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Of course there is.”

“The land is for the hundred only, not the Sky People. The high commander understands what happened, that it was us who had been left behind and you and I who fought to get our people back. We were the ones betrayed, not the Sky People.”

“We could come back.”

She let out a deep sigh and felt a small weight roll off her shoulders because he understood. Six months and acres of distance between them but he still understood.

“We could be our own people again, Bellamy. We could build houses, have farmland, raise cows if we wanted to. No more working around my mother or the council, no more toeing the line just because they’re the adults and they think they know better.”

“You’ve been gone Clarke. It hasn’t been that bad.”

At her look of disbelief, he shrugged. “Fine. It hasn’t been great, but it hasn’t exactly been terrible either.”

“I came back and the first thing my mother did was order to me school and not to leave the house without her permission,” she bit out, her rage beginning to boil. “I don’t know what we can do that we haven’t already done to prove to them we’re equals.”

“This would do a pretty good job at that,” Bellamy admitted, looking around.

“I thought about maybe finding new land but this is home, Bellamy. The camp is just a place to sleep.”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No, you’re the only one. I wanted to know what you thought. You’re in charge-“ her voice caught and she mentally cursed herself for the emotions battering her at being here again. With him. “You’re in charge now, Bellamy. I left and you’re in charge so I can’t make this decision, I can only tell you it’s an option.”

“We’d be taking land from grounders.”

“Trikru,” Clarke corrected. “They call themselves Trikru, it’s more respectful if we do the same.”

He hummed an agreement in his throat. “Your mother wouldn’t like it.”

“I don’t care.”

His gaze swung over to meet hers. “You’d risk your relationship with your mother to come here with us?”

“I came back to the hundred, Bellamy, not to Camp Jaha. Starting now, where you guys go, I go.”

“I guess we’ll put it to a vote,” he decided. His shoulders relaxed, as if a weight had slid from them.

“Not yet.” She put up her hands in surrender as he narrowed his eyes. “I’m not telling you what to do, Bellamy, calm down. I am, however, pointing out there will be some logistics to deal with. For example, there isn’t much in the way of sleeping quarters anymore.”

“Yeah, well, you and Raven sort of burned them up.”

She laughed at the jab. When he smiled back, she felt the distance between them close just a little. “Next time I need to light a rocket on fire, I’ll make sure the tents are put away first.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Grinning, he once again he looked around the space they’d made their own. “Home. Fuck, Clarke, it’ll be good to be back.”

And watching him stand there, in the place he’d given more than one rousing speech, she had to agree she felt the same way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven notices Bellamy looks better than he has in months, Wick says a thing which would have made her run six months ago, and Octavia admits to Lincoln she has lingering doubts about their decision to stay with the Arkers
> 
> also: i managed to weasel the title of my favorite episode in this chapter so if you find you get one thousand Monopoly dollars

“You’re acting weird.”

Bellamy looked up from his breakfast to see Raven and Wick sit down across from him at the table. “ _You’re_ weird.”

“God, you’re so clever,” Raven retorted. “One day I hope I can be as smart as you.”

“Leave the man alone,” Wick cajoled as he dug into his own breakfast. “Nobody should be bothered before they finish their first cup of coffee.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you want to have morning sex,” Raven quipped.   Wincing, Wick sent Bellamy a look of apology.

“Sorry, man, she’s got me there.”

Bellamy waved away his concern. “Don’t worry about it, though I can’t understand why you’d want to keep having sex with her. Once was enough for me.”

“Oh look, Mr. Grump is making jokes.”

Bellamy raised a brow, “Mr. Grump?”

“I haven’t had my coffee either.”

Wick cut in before the squabble entered hair pulling territory. “Did you guys hear about Clarke and her mom?”

“What?”

“How do you know everything before me?” Raven demanded.

“Because I’m nice to people and have a sunny disposition,” he told Raven as he kissed her lightly. “Apparently, Abby told Clarke she was supposed to start working in the med clinic yesterday but she never showed up. Right before they closed up for the night Clarke came around and she and Abby got into it.”

“She’s back one day and Abby’s already trying to, what, get her wild daughter under control?” Raven asked, shaking her head.

“Everyone’s got to pull their weight,” Wick reminded her. “I was getting stitched up at the time so when they moved down the hall I couldn’t follow. Their voices carried well enough, though. Clarke agreed to work part time in the med clinic if she was allowed to leave the camp whenever she wanted without having to get Abby’s permission. They both looked pissed when they left but they weren’t yelling anymore so I assume they came to some kind of agreement.”

“Do you know anything about this?” Raven asked, nudging Bellamy’s foot under the table with her good leg.

“I knew she was going to talk to her mom. I didn’t know if they’d worked anything out.”

“You should check on her,” Raven nudged his foot again. “See if she’s okay.”

Bellamy pushed away his empty plate, picked up his coffee cup and took one last drink before setting it aside. “She survived being on her own for six months, Ray. I think she’ll be fine after a fight with her mom. I got to get to the armory, stay out of trouble.”

“You’re no fun,” she called to his back.  

Bellamy kept on walking. 

##############################

Almost as soon as Bellamy was gone, Wick felt Raven poke him in the ribs. “He was _eating,_ Kyle.”

“Yeah, people tend to do that.”

“No, I mean, he ate without me or Octavia having to shove it down his throat. And I bet...” she reached across the table where Bellamy had left his cup and took a careful sip. “Nope, there’s no alcohol in this.”

Wick looked up from his plate and eyed the cup in Raven’s hand, “This doesn’t mean you were right.”

“Of course it does! I knew if they had some time they would work things out.”

“You don’t know if things are worked out,” he reminded her. “For all we know Bellamy was hungry from his hike yesterday and drank all his moonshine and hasn’t gotten a chance to get more from Monty.”

“I hate you.”

He smiled, knowing she didn’t mean it. Running his hand down the length of her ponytail, he tugged at it, teasing her. “I love that you care about your friend, but I also have to remind you that you can’t fix someone who doesn’t want to be fixed.”

She poked his shoulder, “Even you have to admit he looked better today than he has in weeks.”

Shrugging, Wick dug into his eggs again. “If you say so. I don’t spend that much time checking him out.” When she just stared at him he relented. “Fine, he looks better.”

“Thank you,” she said, satisfied.

He recognized the bright gleam in her eyes as she watched Bellamy’s retreating back. “You’re still going to nose your way into his business, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

Wick picked up her hand and kissed the scarred knuckles, “I love you.”

The words snapped her attention from Bellamy back to him. Wick counted heartbeats, waiting to see how she’d react, if she’d run or if she’d turn into the slide. He had enough time to see a wide grin dawn on her face before she leaned in to kiss him, slow and warm.  

“I love you too.”

Wick knew relief made his answering grin big and stupid, but damn it, he didn’t care. He was the luckiest guy on the planet.

##############################

Most people hated gun cleaning duty. Not Bellamy. He enjoyed the quiet and the solitude of being in the back of the armory while someone else passed out guns to guards coming on shift.

Because the camp’s gates were so close to the fallen ship, there was never enough room for people to spread out, and as a result, the nearby delinquents’ barracks were always noisy. Here in the quiet, though, he could clear his thoughts and go through the methodical process of taking guns apart, cleaning them, and putting them back together. He’d done it so often, the steps had become mindless habit.

Today, instead of clearing his mind it allowed his mind to be filled with the news Clarke had given about the possibility of returning to the dropship. What would it be like to go not as invaders or trespassers but as people who belonged? The thought of owning the land they lived on gave him enough hope to push away the black fog he’d been living in for months, if only for a little while.  

Clarke had been right.

If they were going to go out on their own, they needed to be more prepared than when they’d fallen. They’d need a set of rules and a system in place to make decisions so they not only survived, but thrived. They’d been leaving the relative luxury of the Ark and Camp Jaha behind, from Bellamy’s point of view, giving it up for the freedom of the dropship was well worth it.

When he heard the footsteps coming towards his quiet corner Bellamy sighed. All good things must come to an end. And sometimes, he silently amended after seeing who it was, things just sucked.

“Mr. Blake. Hard at work, I see?” Kane asked.

Bellamy tensed. Although he and Kane had a few moments of camaraderie while taking down the mountain, he couldn’t forget the former council member had put Murphy’s well-being above the justice the murderer deserved. Nor could he forget how he’d been cuffed to a wall while he’d been forced to listen to Raven screaming.

Most importantly, it hadn’t escaped Bellamy’s notice Kane’s distrust of the 100 had only been put aside when he’d realized it was Clarke and the 100 who were going to come out on top.

You couldn’t trust someone who picked sides based on who was going to win.

“What do you want, Kane?” he snapped.

“Just thought I’d come in and see how you were doing.”

“Bullshit,” Bellamy challenged coolly. He checked the gun he’d just reassembled before putting it in its place on the gun rack. “You want to know what Clarke and I did yesterday outside the camp. I’m afraid you’re going to have to live with disappointment. There’s nothing to tell.”

Kane leaned against one of the shelves, all casual friendliness. “Come on, Bellamy. Clarke just got back from being gone for half a year and her mother’s worried about her.”

“Then her mother should talk to her daughter and leave me the hell out of it.”

Bellamy settled back his stool and met Kane’s eyes with what he hoped was amusement. “You’re not worried we’re planning an uprising, are you?”

Like any politician worth his salt Kane’s face revealed nothing. “Things have been good, Bellamy, even you can’t argue that.”

He could, Bellamy thought absently, but he didn’t have energy to the put the effort into it. He could argue that the delinquents were given crap jobs and nothing with responsibility, as if the council and the adults still worried they were criminals instead of survivors. Then there was the fact he and Miller were the only ones allowed guns, and even then only provisionally.

Sure, they were fed and they had a roof over their heads, but they were as much prisoners here in the camp as they had been in the mountain.

“You have your opinion, I have mine.”

“Bellamy-“

Standing up Bellamy faced Kane. “Whatever Clarke and I did yesterday is between Clarke and me,” he said flatly. “Whatever Clarke and I _said_ to each other yesterday is between Clarke and me. I’m not going to play messenger to a chancellor who can’t get her daughter to open up to her. It’s not my job and I’ve got more important things to do.”

“Like cleaning guns.”

“You make the assignments Kane, not me.”

“Hey, Bellamy, guess what?”

Kane opened his mouth as if to say something more, but stopped as Raven came around the corner, ponytail swinging and a shit-eating grin on her face which faded as she saw Kane.  She glanced between Kane and Bellamy in silent question and Bellamy glanced at Kane before giving a slight shake of his head to communicate how done he was with his current conversation partner. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” she apologized.

“Kane was just leaving,” Bellamy assured her.

With a sigh, Kane nodded, “If you change your mind, let me know.”

“Not likely,” Bellamy muttered as he moved back to his stool and the next gun to be cleaned.

“Change your mind about what?”

“Narcing on Clarke. I’m pretty sure Abby sent Kane here to get information on what she’s been doing since she was gone and why we left camp yesterday.”

“I assume you didn’t tell him anything.”

“Not my job, not my problem. What are you doing here? I figured you’d be working on getting the electricity up and running in the barracks like they’ve been promising for a month.”

She waved a hand to dismiss his criticism. “I’m working on it. Guess what? Kyle and I did it.”

Bellamy eyed Raven’s grin suspiciously. “If you’re talking about sex, I’m well aware. Or are you forgetting the time I walked in on you two in your office?”

“That wasn’t sex,” Raven rolled her eyes. “Nothing had been inserted.”

Bellamy swore under his breath before looking back at his friend, his best friend, his really irritating and _obnoxious_ best friend. “Fine, what did you and Kyle do?”

“Said the ‘L’ word.”

She looked so proud of herself he couldn’t find it in him to tease her. “And you didn’t run?”

She grinned again and nearly did a little dance in place. “Nope. Didn’t even think about it.”

“Congrats.”

“You’re being sarcastic, but I’m going to ignore it and thank you anyway.”

Bellamy stood up so he could kiss Raven’s cheek, “I’m not being sarcastic. I’m happy for you both. You guys deserve it.”

“We do, don’t we?”

“Hey, if anyone deserves it, Ray, it’s you.”

She nodded as if she agreed then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “So, how did your day trip with Clarke go?

Bellamy all but growled. “You know for someone who supposedly doesn’t like anyone, you spend an absurd amount of time digging into everyone’s business.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I not speaking to the Raven Reyes who locked Monty and Miller in a storage closet?”

Raven scoffed, “That was a public service. The sexual tension was driving everyone crazy.”

Bellamy conceded the point with a nod, “If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone else?”

“Of course.”

“You’re going to tell Wick, aren’t you?”

“Of course. Unless it’s some kinky sex thing.” She paused, then grinned. “That’s a lie, I’d totally tell him that too.”

When he simply stared at her she realized he was being serious and schooled her face. “If you need this to be between us, then it’s between us.”

“You said I was being weird this morning.”

“You were eating breakfast and not drinking it,” she pointed out with a shrug and he winced at her unflinching honesty. “I told Kyle it was because you Clarke worked things out.”

“It’s not just because of Clarke.”

“So a part of it is Clarke. Sorry, continue.”

He told her what Clarke had told him about the land and the offer from the high commander in Polis. Raven simply stared at him, mouth open. “Holy shit.”

“Right. I know it’s stupid, we’ve been here longer than we were there but-“

“It’s your home,” she finished for him.

“But not yours?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a shrug. ‘If you’re asking if I’ll go with you guys if you leave I’d have to talk to Kyle. You guys are my posse but he’s...”

“Family.”

“Yeah.” Grimacing when she realized how that might have sounded she was about to apologize when Bellamy shook his head.

“It’s okay Ray, you guys have said the ‘L’ word. I get it.”

“He’d come if I asked him to.”

“Which is why you won’t. I hope that damn engineer realizes how lucky he is.”

“He does. Can I ask you a question about Clarke? Just one and I’ll shut up about it.”

“I doubt that’s true, but go for it.”

“Did you guys ever…” but when she let the sentence fall off he looked up and understood what she’d meant.

“Ugh. No, Raven.”

“Don’t ‘ugh, no raven’ me. You ‘ugh’d me once upon a time.”

“Yeah, under completely different circumstances.”

“So you guys have?”

“No,” he told her and watched her face fall with disappointment. “We’ve never even been close to any of that.”

“Why the hell not? You’re hot, she’s hot.”

“It’s more than that Ray, it always was.”

“She matters,” Raven murmured softly. “She’s the one who can hurt you.”

His eyes shot up from the gun on the table to meet hers, “What?”

“That’s why we were able to ‘ugh’ together. Physically we could have pummeled each other and had a hell of a time doing it, but we were never at risk of hurting each other. It’s scary when they can hurt you.”

“It’s terrifying when you know they can do it twice.”

“Ah, Bell.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “I’m fine. I have to finish up here and get going, I agreed to meet up with Clarke.”

She grabbed his arm and forced him to meet her eyes, “Come by when you get done planning the great escape. We’ll play charades or something.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got to spend some time with Octavia before she murders me in my sleep.”

“Fair enough, I’ll talk to you later.”

 ##############################

Octavia’s arms nearly gave out when her sword met Lincoln’s but she used the muscles in her core and the solid planting of her feet to keep from breaking.

With a grunt she suddenly dropped her sword, swinging the blade down to the ground causing Lincoln to lose his balance. Instead of falling, he merely tucked his shoulder and rolled, but the break in his attention gave her the opportunity to go on offense.

She could feel sweat dripping down her spine, her muscles aching and screaming as she swung her sword, taking advantage of a weak spot.

Octavia relished every moment of it.

Ten minutes later, realizing neither of them was going to win the sparring match, they called a halt and walked towards the shade where they’d left their water.

“You’re a natural,” Lincoln commented and Octavia warmed under the praise. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone pick up a sword and understand it as well as you have.”

Looking down at the sword still in her hand she couldn’t deny it felt as if it had been made for her grip. Maybe Lincoln had been right. Maybe the sword hadn’t been made for her. Maybe her fists had always been designed to hold a sword.

“Sometimes I wonder what would have become of me if I’d never made it to the ground. I’d never have found out what I was capable of.”

“You’re a shooting star, Octavia, you were always meant to fall.”

She stared at him, unable to believe they’d been lucky enough to find each other. “Do you ever wonder if we made the right choice?”

“About what?” he asked as he set his sword against one of the trees and picked up the canteen full of water.

“About coming here instead of going back to the Trikru.”

“No.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised by his certainty.

“Really,” he confirmed as he stepped towards her so he could frame her face with his hands. She sighed at the familiar feel of his fingers against her cheek.

“You don’t ever miss it?” she persisted, her own hands coming up so her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Miss the people who threw me away? Called me a traitor? No, Octavia, I don’t miss it.”

“But they’re your people.”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “You’re my people.”

She smiled at his conviction. It was so clean and simple with him. She wished she could feel the same kind of certainty in her own heart.

Lincoln dropped his hands to take one of hers in his own, and then brought them both down to sit in the shade of the evergreen. She settled between his legs, leaning against one of his knees so she could look at him without craning her neck. “Do you not feel at home here? With your brother, your people?”

“I was never one of the Sky People, Lincoln. And I didn’t have what it took to be a Trikru, either.”

“You think you’re less because you chose to stay loyal to your brother? Because you refused to walk away without him? They are fools of the worse kind for thinking they could do better than you.” He picked up her hand, turned it over and kissed the palm, the gesture impossibly gentle in contrast to his strength.

“Don’t try to harden yourself, Octavia. You sacrifice your heart in doing so.” He laid a big hand on the side of her neck, his thumb brushing along the line of her jaw. “I remember when I saw you in the forest the first time, surrounded by butterflies.

“There was such wonder and life in your eyes, I don’t know if there is a word in either of our languages for the light I saw there. Do not let my world darken you. Hold on to that light.”

Though the memory made her smile, she couldn’t immediately think of a response.  After a moment, he tugged on her hand.  “Is this about your brother?”

“No. Yes.” She sighed, “I don’t know. I think the gates are starting to get to me.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We should go on a trip,” he suggested. “Maybe go back to the cave.”

Octavia smiled, “Back to the scene of the crime. Let’s do it, let’s go for a week or two and get away from all the metal and the gates and the people.”

“And your brother?”

“We’re supposed to get together tonight. I’ll talk to him.”

“Talk, not argue?”

“You act like I try to pick a fight with everyone I talk to.”

He smiled, big and wide.  She was amazed anyone could have ever thought a man so gentle could be a monster.

“You’re right,” he assured her but Octavia could hear the teasing in his voice. “How could I have ever thought otherwise?”

Feeling calmer she rested her shoulder against his chest and let what there was of a breeze find them in the shade, “What if I can’t do that? Hold onto the light, I mean.”

“Then you hold on to me.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Octavia share a private moment while honoring their mother and then later, he shares one with Clarke that feels like a new beginnng

Later that evening, Octavia walked through the woods with her brother, each holding a flashlight as they moved north towards the river which flowed away from Camp Jaha.

They’d been planning this trip for a few weeks. Since Clarke had come back, Octavia had expected Bellamy to cancel. True to his word, though, he’d shown up at her door at sunset. Not only that, but he was more sober than he’d been in weeks.

Maybe she finally had her brother back, after all.

“Lincoln didn’t want to come?” Bellamy asked.

“He offered, but I figured this was our thing.” She waited a beat before asking, “You didn’t ask Clarke?”

“Not tonight, O.”

She debated whether or not to ignore the warning in his voice, but pushed on anyway. “It’s just you’ve spending a lot of time with her the past couple of days.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“I bet,” she sneered.

“It’s not-- why does everyone think I’m trying to get into Clarke’s pants?” he asked. “My spending time with Clarke doesn’t have anything to do with her and me, and everything to do with what happened while she was gone. Something which I would like to talk to you about if can keep your opinions about Clarke to a minimum.”

“I can certainly try.”

“We’re talking about the possibility of going back to the dropship.”

Octavia stopped walking and waited for Bellamy to catch up to her, “Can we do that?”

“The Trikru gave us the land, so yeah, we can if we want.”

“Of course we want!” Octavia laughed, nearly dancing in place. “Oh, my God, can you imagine not being gated up? It’s so weird you mention it now because I was just talking to Lincoln about going on a trip because we were both feeling antsy being cooped in the camp for so long.”

“There’s stuff to work out first, but we think by the end of the week we’ll put it to a vote. If we get a majority we’ll leave Jaha.”

“That’s why Clarke came back.”

“I think she came back because she wanted to come home,” he said carefully. Though it irritated her that his go-to position was to defend Clarke, the last thing she wanted to do tonight of all nights was argue. Rolling her shoulders, she forced herself to relax and let it go.

“Home. It’ll be a nice thing to tell Mom.”

The flashlights illuminated the deep curve of Bellamy’s smile. “You’re right. Come on, I can hear the water.”

They walked till they hit the bank of the river. Out of the woods, the moon was bright enough so they could turn off their flashlights. When they stopped, Bellamy dropped the pack, then opened it.

Inside were two candles the size of a doorknob and two pieces of plastic dyed red, their mother’s favorite color. Octavia had worried about animals eating the plastic, but Raven had assured them the plastic would degrade quickly and wouldn’t harm any animals that might ingest it.

Bellamy had smiled at Octavia’s worry, ruffling her hair and insisting she had too soft a heart.

Lighting one of the candles with a match Bellamy set it on the plastic and handed it to Octavia and she waited while he did the same to the candle so together they stood on the side of a river, two dark shadows lit only by the candles they held and the moonlight which found its way down to earth.

Bellamy cleared his throat. “Happy birthday, Mom.”

Tears pricked the back of Octavia’s eyes. Here with her brother she didn’t even try to hide them. “Happy birthday, Mom. I hope you’re doing well, wherever you are. I hope the stars are taking care of you.”

Besides her, Bellamy reached out took her hand. “We came out here because we wanted to let you know we’re doing okay. The past year was hard, but we made it through because we took care of each other.”

“Like you said we should,” Octavia cut in, squeezing her brother’s hand.

“We miss you like hell, Mom.”

She could hear the tears in his voice now, and she could feel her own streak down her cheeks. Miss you was such an inappropriately inadequate phrase.

“You probably have a pretty good idea of what it’s like down here,” Bellamy continued. “I imagine you’ve got yourself a fantastic view from where you are, so you know even though it’s difficult and painful it’s also beautiful. We’re standing beneath trees listening to a river, Mom. Who’d have thought the Blakes would ever get a chance to live like this?”

“And we’re going to make the most of it, and we’re going to make you proud,” Octavia added as she stepped forward to set the plastic on the river and waited until Bellamy added his before standing up.

“We love you Mom,” Bellamy whispered as they watched the candles float down the river.

“Forever,” Octavia added.

Bellamy wrapped his arms around her in a big brother hug and she leaned into him gratefully. No matter how old she got, she thought, she’d never stop needing him.

“I thought it would have stopped hurting by now.”

“I know,” he murmured into her hair. “But she’d be so proud of you, O.”

“You too,” she whispered into his shoulder. “She’d proud of both of us.”

“Hell yeah, she would.”

Octavia pulled back so she could see the shadows of his eyes, “Do you ever think about--” She cut herself off. ”You know what, never mind.”

“Do I ever think about what?”

“About who our dads might be?”

Absently he ran a hand down her hair and she had a vivid memory of him doing that constantly when she was a kid. “Only because I’m mildly worried about accidentally making out with a half-sister.”

Octavia’s eyes widened and Bellamy laughed.

“I never even thought about that,” she exclaimed.

“Didn’t have to when you were a secret up in the sky, and down here you’ve got Lincoln.” he shrugged. “Other than that, I don’t give it much thought. Why?”

“I just wonder if they’re here,” she admitted as she wiped away the drying tears. “If they made it to the ground and we walk by them on the way to breakfast or say goodbye to them when we cross through the gates. It’s weird now knowing what we got from them.”

“It doesn’t matter what we got from them,” Bellamy told her. “Anything we may have inherited is all surface stuff, hair color or how tall we are, because everything we are that matters we got from Mom. Strength, compassion, stubbornness,” he added with a smile. “We got all that from her and that’s all the matters.”

“She was pretty great,” Octavia agreed.

“Yeah, she was.”

They both looked back to the river, the candles a brief glimmer in the distance.

“Ready to head back?’

Octavia sighed, looked up at the stars and pictured her mother up there, looking down on them with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

##############################

When they got back to camp, a handful of delinquents were warding off the spring chill by sitting around a campfire and passing around Monty’s moonshine. As soon as Octavia was close enough to grab a glass, she sat next to Monty, who was laughing.

“What are we playing?”

“Never have I ever.”

From across the low burning fire Harper raised a glass, “Never have I ever, in the past 24 hours, lied to a member of the guard.”

There were about a dozen people around the fire and more than half of them took a drink to which Miller, who sat on the other side of Monty and was himself a guard, protested.

“Wow, guys. Just wow.” Then he turned to his boyfriend and pointed a finger, “And I sure as hell hope I wasn’t the guard you lied to.”

“Nope,” he promised. “I just told one of the other guards the cask of moonshine was full of oil.”

“Why would you have oil in a cask?”

Monty shrugged in answer to Bellamy’s question. “Don’t know, but he bought it.”

“Okay,” Octavia cut in. “My turn. Never have I ever had sex with someone else in the room.”

Two people took drinks and the group howled with laughter as everyone tried to get details of when and with who but instead of joining in on the phone Bellamy walked past her and dropped a kiss on her head like she was five, “Don’t stay up too late.”

“You’re not staying?”

“No, I’m going to go to bed. Night.”

She watched him disappear into the shadows around the barracks. For a moment, she wished he would stick around, but then realized he’d just given up the perfect chance to drink without judgement. Maybe Bellamy might be okay after all.

##############################

On impulse, Bellamy walked past his room and down to where Clarke’s bedroom door was open a crack to let the wavering light from an oil lantern into the hallway.

She was sitting on her bed, absorbed in a small book she’d propped on her knees.

Her blonde hair was pulled up onto the crown of her head in a style he’d never seen on her before. It left small tendrils falling on her temples and on her neck and he thought somehow it made her look more regal.

“You know, in all the time I’ve known you I’ve never actually seen you draw.”

Clarke looked up from her lap and smiled when she saw him leaning against her doorway, his thumb hooked in one of his belt loops. “Wasn’t much opportunity when we were together,” she pointed out.

“Can I see?” he asked, gesturing vaguely towards the book.

She was hesitant for a moment before holding out the leather bound tome, “Don’t be mad.”

Walking in to her room he sat on the bed next to her feet and took the book form her hands, surprised to see himself on the small page. It was just him from shoulders up but she’d gotten the curl of his hair and the freckles on his face almost perfectly. But more importantly she’d seemed to see something he hadn’t even dared to look at too closely.

“I look pretty pissed off.”

“I probably look the same way most of the time,” she admitted. “Here,” she held out her hand for the book and he reluctantly gave it back.

Is that really how he went around looking on a daily basis, pissed off and angry? Or was it only the way she’d drawn him that made him seem to have such a cold stare?

After flipping back a few pages, she handed him the leather volume again. “How about this one?” she asked.

He recognized himself again but this sketch was from head to toe as he held a gun across his body, his posture relaxed as he laughed at something off the page.

“This is old,” he realized as he recognized the pants and shirt as ones he’d worn at the dropship. And the face…well, he hadn’t worn that face in a long time.

“The image is old,” she conceded, wrapping her arms around her bare legs and resting her chin on her knee. “The sketch was done last night.”

When he looked up at her she shrugged, “I couldn’t sleep.”

He understood the feeling. Odd, to think last night while he’d been convincing himself he didn’t really want a drink, she’d been down the hall drawing a picture of him laughing. “What is this from?”

“Nothing in particular, just pulled it from memories mostly.”

Her answer sparked a grin, “You staying up late thinking about me princess?”

“I don’t have a lot of good memories,” she admitted with no trace of embarrassment. “So I hold on to the ones I’ve got.”

“I’m a good memory?”

“Yes,” and the fact she said it without qualification or explanation somehow made the admission all the more honest.

“You’re in a couple of my good memories too,” he admitted.

With a smile she stretched out her legs, resting them close enough to brush against worn cotton of his pants. “Tell me one.”

“Are you searching for a compliment?” he teased her as he set the book down on the side of the bed.

“No, just good memories.”

Getting into the mood Bellamy shifted on the bed and was about to bring his feet up when she pushed them off again, “If you’re putting your feet up here take off the dirty boots.”

With a grumble Bellamy loosened them enough to kick them off and then put stockinged feet on the bed by her hip as he leaned against the footboard.

“Okay, good memories? I think if this is going to be fair you have to give up a story too.”

“I showed you the sketch.”

“Doesn’t count.”

She thought about it for a moment before conceding with a sigh, “Fine.”

Bellamy settled himself more comfortably on her bed and thought back to a good memory, “Bringing the guns back to camp. I remember walking in and everyone was having a party and they just got so excited about the idea of shooting guns.”

When Clarke laughed he focused his attention back on her in the present, “What?”

“Nothing, my memory was going to be you teaching me how to shoot,” she smiled. “I still feel a little guilty about how good it was to shoot off those first bullets. We had no idea, did we?”

He put his hand on her ankle and jostled her leg, “You went down the dark path there Clarke. Good memories, remember? Like the first time we saw each other here and you tackled me.”

Again the laugh as she kicked his hip so he used his hand to pin her leg to the bed, “I did not tackle you.”

“I was there and I’m pretty that’s what it was.”

She rolled her eyes and neither of them noticed Bellamy’s hand had stayed on her ankle, “It was called a hug.”

“A hug, of course. How could I have gotten that wrong the way you threw yourself at me out of nowhere? You know, now that I think about it, I’m feeling a little gipped I didn’t get a hug the second time you came back. Are you getting tired of me, Clarke Griffin?”

With a dramatic roll of her eyes Clarke shifted on the bed to her knees, dislodging Bellamy’s hand, and leaned forward to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him.

For a moment, Bellamy allowed himself to hold on and hug her back, enjoying how soft and warm she felt against him, the fresh, sweet scent of her skin, still damp from a recent shower. When he pulled away, she smiled up into his eyes.

“Feel better?”

“Infinitely.”

“Good.” She sat down but didn’t move back to her spot at the top of the bed. Instead, she settled next to him, legs crossed so her knee bumped against his.

He reached behind her to pick up her sketch book. “So exactly how many times have you drawn me?” he asked, flipping through the pages even as she tried to take it from him. “I mean I know I’m great looking and all, but-“

She managed to get the book from him and tossed it across the room. “You’re insufferable.”

“I try.”

“You don’t have to try very hard,” she muttered. “You know what I was thinking on our way back here earlier? I don’t remember ever seeing you on the Ark.”

He snorted even as he rested his arm on her knee. “Not a surprise, princess.”

“Okay,” she conceded with her hands up in surrender. “I was a little sheltered.”

Bellamy laughed, “A little?”

She pushed his shoulder, “Hey, I survived down here just as well as everyone else.”

“Better,” he assured her, raising an imaginary cup to her in a kind of toast. “What made you think of that anyway?”

“Nothing,” she answered with a shrug, which he didn’t believe for a second. “I was just wondering what would have happened if we hadn’t gotten thrown together like we did.”

He shifted on the bed and suddenly their elbows brushed and he tried to ignore what it might imply when Clarke leaned into the pressure instead of away. “What do you mean?”

“If it hadn’t been for you attempting to assassinate the chancellor and sneaking on to the dropship.”

“Or if you hadn’t committed treason,” he pointed out, bumping her knee with his leg.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “If it hadn’t been for that we might not have ever met. We might have never even known the other existed.”

“I think we would have still met,” he insisted.

"Yeah?”

Bellamy shrugged, unable to blame his certainty on any one thing. They would have been different on the Ark, different people, different circumstances but still… “Some people you’re just supposed to meet, you know? We were supposed to meet, princess.”

She was quiet for a moment, something dark and alive dancing in the reflection of the flames in her eyes as she looked back at him. “The last thing Finn said to me was ‘thank you, Princess.’”

Bellamy sat up straight. “Fuck, why didn’t you tell me that? I would have stopped.”

Clarke shook her head, her eyes focused on something he couldn’t see. “I didn’t want you to stop, I just thought you should know. I mean, it’s not like he owned the rights to it. He wasn’t the first person to call me princess, after all.” She finally looked back at him, then bumped her knee against him. “You weren’t even the first person to call me princess. Octavia was.”

Of its own volition, his hand moved to curve around the back of her neck. He knew this wasn’t a line he should cross, but the topic made him sentimental and he was already struggling with the emotions celebrating his mom’s birthday had roused, and he couldn’t seem to help himself. “I can stop Clarke. I don’t want to trigger you or whatever every time I call you…every time I say it.”

She reached up and wrapped her hand around his wrist, her fingers barely touching as she met his eyes. “You know what I think about when I hear princess? I hear a surly man with slicked back hair mocking me,” she gave him a pointed look and he grinned unapologetically. “I hear an ally agreeing to help me. I hear a friend telling me he’s looking at me to make a decision. The nickname, the insult, whatever it was supposed to be. It wasn’t ever Finn’s, it was always yours, Bellamy.”

She took a deep breath and purposefully met his eyes and held his gaze, “I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in destiny, or that some things are meant to be. I do think you’re right about one thing.”

“Just one?” he tried to tease but the smile fell when she moved her their hands so instead of cupping her neck he held her hand.

“I think we were supposed to meet and I’m sorry I left.”

“You came back, that’s what matters.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy wakes from a nightmare and for the first time in longer than he can remember there's someone there to comfort him when he wakes up in the dark. The next day Clarke has a confrontation with her mother which leaves her reeling.

Bellamy woke with a start. He saw nothing but darkness though, he could feel Clarke above him, her hands on his shoulders as if trying to keep him pinned to the bed and he realized his nightmare had followed him back to the real world.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

“Am I okay? God, Bellamy, I thought you were dying.”

He rubbed a hand over his chest, felt the dull thud of his heart beating against his ribs. It hurt, his whole body hurt.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He wished for something as simple as a light switch so he could see her for himself. “I’ve never had to worry about hurting someone before.”

There was a shifting in the dark and he heard the sound of a match being struck an instant before he saw the bright spurt of flame. “No, but you were thrashing around like a fish on land,” she assured him as she lit the lamp next to her bed. “It woke me up, but then I couldn’t wake you up and it started freaking me out.”

Bellamy sat up and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the last vestiges of the dream. “It was a nightmare.”

“I figured.” She moved back to sit next to him. When he looked around, he saw the rumpled sheets of her bed. Sometime while they were talking, he must have fallen asleep in her bed and she apparently had been okay with that, because rather than waking him up, she’d fallen asleep next to him. Clarke ran a hand down his back, and the feel of her small fingers running along his spine comforted him  

How long had it been since he’d let someone get close enough to comfort him? He suspected Raven and Octavia knew about his nightmares the same way they knew about his drinking but when they’d tried to be there for him he’d intentionally pushed them away.

He’d counted on Clarke and even though walking away was the best thing for her, it had been a stark reminder that you couldn’t one hundred percent depend on anyone and he wasn’t a man built to do things half way.

“I need a drink.”

“Don’t go.” She grabbed his arm. He knew if he wanted he could shake her off, but she looked so worried he couldn’t find it in him to walk away. But Christ, he wanted that drink.

“What happened? Talk to me, Bellamy.”

He could shrug it off, the nightmare and her concern. Maybe tell her he couldn’t remember what he’d been haunted by in his sleep. Or he could lie. They’d lived through enough shit he could pick any one of a hundred days and come up with something nightmarish instead of prying open his heart and showing her his greatest fears which revealed themselves on an almost nightly basis.

Then he thought of the picture she’d drawn of him. Hard, cold, aloof. He couldn’t change that picture unless he started to reach out.

“It changes,” he admitted. “Sometimes it’s the drop and we don’t survive. The thing blows up when we land and I hear Octavia screaming, begging for help. Sometimes it’s—do you remember when Jasper was tied up and you fell through that hole? Sometimes I see that and I don’t catch you. But most of the time it’s just blood, lots and lots of blood.”

She reached out and brushed a hand down his face, soothing touches he leaned into, suddenly desperate for the contact. “But you did catch me. You’re the one person I can always count on to catch me.”

He wanted to ask her why she left, if she was so confident in his ability to catch her why did she leave? But he didn’t ask because as different as they sometimes were they had a similar core. She didn’t want to be a burden, she didn’t want to weigh him down with her own guilt and pain.

She didn’t want him to have to catch her again but what she didn’t know, couldn’t know, was catching her had saved his life and more than likely his soul.

When he finally looked at Clarke he saw she was studying him, then she nodded as if she’d decided something. When she pulled away he told himself he did not miss her hand on his face, the room was just cold and her hand had been warm.

Clarke turned down the oil lamp so it barely created a shadow in the room. “Get up,” she ordered.

Thinking she was sending him back to his room Bellamy got up off the bed and reached for his shoes but Clarke slid off the bed and took the boots from him and set them near the door before returning to the bed and pulling back the sheets.

“Which side do you want?”

Bellamy didn’t bother asking what she meant. Right now he was too tired and too wrung out from the dream to care. “Left.”

There wasn’t much room on the bed. It was narrow, intended for only one person. After Bellamy climbed on the mattress, though, she slid in next to him and pulled up the sheets to cover them both, curling her body around his and wrapping her arm around him.

Without thinking, he reached up and covered her hand with his own. Her cheek pressed against his back and it all should have been awkward and weird but instead it was surprisingly familiar, the feel of her at his back and his heart beating beneath her hand.

“Tell me a story,” she suggested after Bellamy had turned out the light.

“You want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

“No, I want you tell yourself one, but since I’m here I’ll listen,” she teased.

He rubbed his fingers along the back of her hand before threading her fingers with his. He knew hundreds of stories, had once kept Octavia entertained by telling her myth after fairytale after legend, but the only one he could think of in that moment, with the darkness surrounding him and in him, was a love story about a god everyone thought was cruel but was desperately looking for someone to understand.

“There was this god,” Bellamy started, holding Clarke’s hand against his chest. “His name was Hades, and he was in love with this goddess named Persephone.”

 ##############################

 The next morning Bellamy was in such a good mood he nearly felt like whistling. He couldn’t remember that last time he’d been able to go back to sleep after waking up from a nightmare.

Shit, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a decent night’s sleep, period.

Walking out of the barracks he saw Octavia at one of the tables the delinquents had pulled over to their area with a book in front of her. Glancing over her shoulder, he saw it was a series of Grounder-Trikru, he corrected himself-phrases.

“Studying up?”

Octavia looked over her shoulder as he sat down next to her, “Yeah, I’ve finally moved past the simple phrases, so Lincoln’s teaching some more complicated ones. It’s a pretty cool language once you get a handle on it.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d suggested he learn Lincoln’s language. As usual, he evaded it. “I’ll leave translating to you and Lincoln.”

“You know, for someone who reads and writes in Ancient Greek I’d think you’d be a little more interested in learning a useful language.”  She stopped, looking at him closely. “You look different. Why?”

“Probably because I actually got some sleep last night,” he commented wryly. After he’d woken up from the nightmare he’d slept like the dead for six hours, waking up only when Clarke did.

_“I have to get to the med clinic,” she’d told him as she’d rolled away from him and off the bed. “But if you want to stay and sleep you’re more than welcome.”_

_He’d made a noncommittal noise while burrowing deeper into the pillow. She’d laughed and tossed the sheets over his head, “Keep your eyes shut, Blake, I need to change.”_

“What about you?” he asked his sister, who was tugging thoughtfully on the ends of her braids. “How late did you and the other delinquents stay up?”

“Not too late. Most of us had to work this morning.”

“I thought I smelled eggs.”

“Ugh,” Octavia brought a strand of hair to her nose. “I hate smelling like breakfast.”

“I don’t suppose you saved any for me.”

“Nope, full house this morning so there wasn’t anything left to save.”

“Some sister you are.”

“You’re the one who skipped breakfast,” she pointed out. “What are you up to today?”

“Nothing, it’s my day off. I was thinking about going to the workshop to bug Raven.”

“Better her than me.”

“You talk to Lincoln about what we talked about last night?”

Octavia looked up from the book, “Yeah. He’s happy the high commander made the offer. He doesn’t want what Lexa did to be the legacy his people have in the area. He’s excited, actually. He hates being here but we didn’t have any other options until now.”

“Do you think you two could go to the village just east of here?”

“Yeah, I don’t think we have a lot of going on today. Why?”

“Because when I go bug Raven and Wick in their workshop I’m going to tell them they need to figure what to bring and what to leave behind, but if we’ve got carts and a horse we’ll have the option of taking bigger things with us.”

“Stuff we can’t carry, you mean.”

“Yeah. I figure if you and Lincoln go and explain what’s what, the village might be more open to lending their stuff to us.”

“You mean considering one of our people killed 18 of theirs,” she said dryly.

“Right. We’ll probably leave by the end of the week so just see what they can do for us and let them know we’re willing to barter.”

“Barter what? We don’t have anything.”

“We have moonshine.”

“I don’t know if that’ll work, but I’ll talk to Lincoln.”

“Thanks,” he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She looked at him as if he’d just kissed a bear.

“What?”

“Whatever the hell you did last night to put you in this mood I’d suggest you do it every night. I think everyone’s a little tired of depressed and grouchy Bellamy.”

Bellamy thought about going to sleep with the sound of Clarke’s breathing in his ear, her arms locked around him.

“Noted.”

 ##############################

 Clarke knew Bellamy was nearby before she heard his voice. She told herself she could recognize the distinctive pattern of his footsteps but she knew that was bullshit.

Sometimes, she just knew.

He was practically sauntering towards her, clearly in a good mood as he munched on an apple.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you until later.”

“I’ve got updates,” he explained as Clarke finished preparing one stack of bandages and pulled out the next pile to start cutting and folding.

“Updates?”

“Lincoln and Octavia are going to go to the village to ask about borrowing a cart and a horse. She said they’ll be leaving within the next hour.”

“Isn’t it kind of late?”

“Not everyone’s legs are short as yours,” he pointed out with a grin. “They’ll make good time and should be back by nightfall. If not, we’ll see them in the morning.”

“When did you tell them we’d need the cart and horse?”

“By the end of the week. That’s what we agreed on, right?”

Clarke nodded. Her stomach rumbled as he took another noisy bite of his apple,  a reminder she’d accidentally slept in that morning and had been forced to skip breakfast in order to make it the med-clinic on time.

“I also talked to Raven and Wick, told them to start going through their stuff and deciding what they would keep and what they would leave behind. I have a feeling they’ll end up keeping it all and since I don’t know what half of it is for I’m not about to argue.”

“I think their stuff is going to take up the most space.”

“All the metal and crap,” Bellamy agreed. “If they’re smart they’ll start organizing and boxing stuff up today so they’re ready as soon as we give the okay to move out.”

He’d been productive this morning she thought, dismayed. All she’d done was stitch up a guard and make bandages they’d hopefully never need. Then she noticed he was staring as if she’d grown horns. “What?”

His eyes were serious and focused on something near her chin. “I didn’t give that to you, did I?”

“Give me what?”

Bellamy reached out and tapped lightly on the left side of her jaw. “There’s a bruise there.”

“Oh, that. No, it’s been there for a couple of days but way to be observant. Octavia gave it to me.”

“Right. The sucker punch. I don’t suppose she ever apologized for that.”

Clarke waved away the disapproval she could hear in his voice, “She doesn’t need to apologize. I deserved it. She was just looking out for you, and I can’t blame her for that.”

He settled against the table as if content to hang around, which pleased her.  Making bandages was a tedious and boring project, and company would help. Anyone’s company would have done she clarified to herself and then immediately called bullshit on herself.

“Have you had lunch yet?” she asked.

“This is lunch,” he told her as he took another bite of the apple.

Starving, Clarke took the apple from his hand and bit into it, letting the sweetness of it roll on her tongue. God, the food really did taste better down here.

“This is not lunch,” she told him as she handed him back the fruit. “That is a snack.”

“You’re not going to start mothering me too, are you? Because I already have Raven and Octavia for that.”

“Consider it doctor’s advice,” she said, smirking.

“Yeah, that doesn’t make it any better.”

“Well, I’m starving, so you can suck it up and go get something to eat with me. I’ll be done here in a couple of minutes.” Her gaze flickered over his shoulder, “Or maybe make that ten,” she said grimly, as her mother appeared in the doorway of the infirmary.

Seeing her focus change Bellamy looked over his shoulder, then grimaced in sympathy when he turned back to her. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be loitering outside when you’re done.”

“Way to have my back, Bellamy.”

He grinned and pushed off the table, giving Abby a polite nod as he passed her on the way out.  

Trying to head off whatever lecture or conversation her mother was about to start Clarke began gathering up the nearly finished bandages. “I’m about finished here, and then I’m going to get something to eat.”

“Are you dating Bellamy?” he mother asked bluntly.

Clarke stopped moving and stared at her mother. Where in the hell would she get an idea like that? “What?”

“Ever since you’ve been back you’ve spent more time with him than anyone else,” Abby explained. “You two are constantly leaving the camp and spending hours together out in the woods. I thought we should talk about it.”

“Talk about what?” Clarke asked, baffled and covertly looking for the quickest exit.

“About dating and…” Abby shifted on her feet and Clarke knew with sudden clarity where her mother was going. Were they _honestly_ about to have this conversation? “And the things which go along with it,” her mother finally finished.

Valiantly controlling her temper, Clarke forced herself to set the bandages carefully back on the table before facing Abby. “The ‘things that go along with it’?” Clarke repeated slowly. “You do know you can say ‘sex’ right? I’m not going to faint or anything.”

Abby glanced around the room as if to indicate she’d been attempting to be discreet. Clarke wanted to laugh. They sent a bunch of teenagers to Earth with nothing more than a ‘good luck’ and didn’t think the sex talk would be old news?  

“It’s a little late for that, Mom, and either way, it’s none of your business what Bellamy and I may or may not be doing.”

Hoping the discussion was closed, Clarke tried to move around Abby, biting back an aggravated sigh when her mother grabbed her arm to bring her back around.

“I just don’t think,” she started but seemed to think better of it and stopped herself which in and of itself was enough to pique Clarke’s interest.

“You just don’t think what?”

Abby shifted on her feet before straightening her spine and Clarke was instantly wary. Her mother only did that when she was putting on her ‘I know better’ hat and during the times Abby had worn that hat Clarke had rarely agreed with her. “I don’t think your father would have approved of your choice of company.”

“My father?” Clarke asked, her blood going cold at the look of pure, patronizing concern. “You’re seriously going to bring up Dad?”

“I understand the appeal, Clarke,” Abby assured Clarke and the tone once rankled. Sometimes it seemed as if her mother purposefully forgot or ignored everything her daughter had been through. Clarke was no longer the young woman who needed her mother’s guidance and advice. She was a woman who’d survived death and war. She was a warrior who’d killed.

Boy advice was a little superfluous at this point.

“It’s the bad boy thing,” Abby continued. “Every girl goes through it but he’s not the kind of boy your father would have wanted for you.”

“And what kind of boy would he have wanted for me?” Clarke challenged and by the quick widening of her mother’s eyes Clarke guessed her anger was no longer concealed on her face.

“Would he have wanted me to date a nice boy who gave me flowers and made me smile? Because that was Finn and he killed 18 innocent people. Or how about someone who is strong and certain of themselves, someone with a strong sense of loyalty to their people? Because that was Lexa and she left me standing in front of a mountain while my people were trapped inside.”

As Clarke spoke, her anger grew, vibrating under her skin until she thought she might shatter trying to contain it.  She met her mother’s eyes. “Or how about someone who loves his family? Someone who would do anything to protect them? Someone who challenges me and supports me, no matter what? Because that’s who Bellamy is. But you’re right, let’s ask Dad who he’d rather see me with.” She paused to allow her next barb to have maximum effect. “Oh, wait. That’s right. I can’t. Because Dad’s dead.”

Abby flinched as if she’d been struck and Clarke couldn’t help but be proud of the reaction as she went on. “What I do with my life, and who I choose to spend my time with is absolutely none of your business and I’ll thank you to remember that.”

The room which had been hummed with the steady buzz of patients and med-techs was not quiet, and Clarke belatedly remembered they’d had an audience. Wanting to get away from the prying eyes and ears Clarke tried to push past her mother, but Abby sidestepped her, blocking her path.

“I don’t think he’s the best influence on you, Clarke.”

“Bellamy? You think Bellamy is a bad influence on me?”

“Right from the beginning he was the one who wanted you to take the bracelets off.”

Clarke’s eyes shot up to meet her mother’s and wondered how she could have known that. None of the delinquents would have told anyone from the Ark what gone on those first few weeks.

She closed her eyes.  _Jasper._ He must have told them why they’d taken the bracelets off, and now Clarke wondered what else her friend had told the council.

“I’m not going to stand here and defend Bellamy to you because everything he has done since we fell speaks for itself and everything you have done…well, it speaks itself too.”

“I did what I thought was best for the greater good-“

“And so did we,” Clarke snapped. “So did Bellamy, and what’s more, no one had to die for our greater good. Think on that why don’t you? Then you can tell me who the worst influence on me was.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia confronts Clarke who comes to a realization regarding Bellamy that, honestly, surprises no one

By the time Clarke finally managed to escape her mother she was on the verge of losing it.

Almost objectively she recognized the racing heart and shortness of breath as symptoms of an anxiety attack but instead of finding Bellamy waiting outside for her she found Octavia just a few feet from the entrance. The last thing, the literal last thing she needed right now was another tongue lashing from Octavia the Grounder.

“Where’s Bellamy?” Clarke asked.

“He got called away. He asked me to wait for you and let you know he’d meet you back here in five.”

Clarke glanced over her shoulder. No way in hell she was waiting here when her mother could come out any minute. “I can’t wait here. Tell him I’ll see him…tell him I’ll meet him in the barracks.”

“The barracks?” Octavia asked with a raised eyebrow. “I thought it was odd Bellamy’s door was left open all night.”

“Not now, Octavia,” Clarke snapped before heading in the direction of the barracks. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you going to break his heart again?” Octavia asked as if she hadn’t heard Clarke.

Clarke stopped. “What?”

Octavia’s beautiful face twisted into a sneer. “You can’t tell me you don’t realize what you did to him by leaving. You’ve spent the past couple of days with him, surely you’ve noticed the shadows under his eyes, the liquor on his breath. He keeps a flask on him you know.”

“I know.”

“That’s because of you.”

The knife in her gut twisted painfully, “I know.”

“And that’s it? You break my brother and you come back and just assume everything will go back to normal?”

“I’m a mass murderer, Octavia,” Clarke spat, pain wrenching anew. “Nothing’s ever going to be normal again.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“ _I know_.”

“He’s the way he is because of you,” Octavia persisted, her tone as sharp as the knife she carried at her side.

Clarke could practically feel the sparks shooting from her, bright and furious precursors to an explosion she was no longer sure she wanted to hold back or could hold back. Maybe it was left over mad from her mother, or maybe she was just sick and fucking tired of everyone acting as if she didn’t know she was a terrible person.

“Why do you think I left?! Why do think I walked away, Octavia? For my own good? I walked away from my family, from my _home_. If it had been up to me, I would have stayed but I had to go because I’m. Not. Good. For. Him.”

There was a beat of silence when Clarke could see she’d surprised Octavia. “What?”

“I get it wrong,” Clarke hissed. “Murphy when Wells was killed, leaving the dropship when the grounders were going to attack. Shutting the door before Finn and Bellamy could get inside. _That was me_. Each of those mistakes were on me and Bellamy paid the price for each of them.”  Every nerve of Clarke’s body was tight and tense as overstretched wire, but she kept on.

“ _I_ put Bellamy in that mountain where he was tortured and almost died, almost drained of his blood and thrown out like trash. If it hadn’t been for me he never would have been in that room when I pulled the lever. But he was and he did _because of me_.”

“You left for his own good,” Octavia said, bewildered.

“I thought he’d be better off without me in his life,” Clarke confirmed, tears blurring her vision. “But it turns out I’m a selfish asshole because I came back. He may be better off without me, but I’m not better off without him.”

Octavia blinked. When she did, something shifted in her posture, transforming her from the fierce warrior she was now to, the girl who thought she’d been the first person on the ground in a hundred years. Who’d always found a way to be strong and soft at the same time. “It’s because you’re not a sheep.”

“What?”

“The reason your mom keeps tugging on you,” Octavia explained and Clarke cursed because the argument was barely over and it was already getting around the camp she and her mother had been fighting. “Your mother begged for a sheep but your father raised a wolf. She doesn’t know what to do with you and she keeps hoping she can turn you back into a soft and domesticated sheep. Every time she tries, you snap at her because you’re a wolf and you’ve got teeth. But she’s never going to stop trying to box you in, Clarke, so you’ve got to stop letting her think she can. It’s not fair to either of you.”

“What does that have to do with Bellamy?”

“Nothing,” Octavia admitted with a shrug. “You just looked like you could use some advice. Look, there’s Bellamy now.”

Clarke turned and felt instant relief at seeing his long figure ambling towards her, his eyes narrowing as he saw her and Octavia standing together.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Octavia murmured. “I’ve got to head out with Lincoln soon anyway.”

Clarke barely heard her as she remembered the last words she’d exchanged with her mother before leaving the med-clinic.

_“Do you love him?”_

_“I came back for him,” Clarke had answered. “It’s too bad Dad will never get to meet him, I think they would gotten along.”_

Shit. Oh, shit. She was in love with him. God damn it, how the hell had that happened? When the hell had it happened?

She needed to get out of the camp, she couldn’t breathe and the anxiety building up inside of her was attempting to go full on panic and the last thing she wanted to do was fall apart here where anyone could see.

Bellamy seemed to read the distress in her eyes, or maybe by now it was written all over her face, because he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, what’s the matter? What did Octavia do?”

“Nothing,” Clarke told him, fighting back furious tears she wasn’t she’d be able to control much longer. “I need to go. I need to leave.”

“What?”

She looked up at the pure fear in his voice and she saw he’d gone pale in a matter of seconds and she cursed herself because she really was an asshole. “No, I didn’t mean _leave_ leave _._ God.” She pressed the heels of her hands against her temple. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I meant I need some space.”

He stepped away, still looking hurt and Clarke could have kicked herself for causing him more pain. “I need space but I don’t want to be alone,” she corrected and the first tear fell from the corner of her eye. She didn’t know if it was instinct or compassion which had Bellamy immediately reaching out to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb.

She nearly broke right there.

“Will you come with me, Bellamy?”

“Yeah, let me get a gun.”

Clarke shook her head, grabbing his wrist when he moved to walk away. “I can’t-I need to just-Please. Don’t you have your pistol on you? Can we just go?”

He nodded and she didn’t care at the moment who saw him reach down and take her hand, leading her through the sparse crowds towards the gate, because the tears were blinding her and she wouldn’t have made it ten feet without tripping over something.

Bellamy waited till they were a mile or so from the camp before turning to face her. By then the tears had dried and while she could still feel the pressure of panic against her lungs she no longer thought she’d fall apart at his feet.

“Tell me what happened. You said it wasn’t Octavia.”

“It wasn’t,” Clarke assured him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For arguing with you about the damn bracelets.”

Bellamy was quiet for a moment before chuckling as he figured out what she was talking about. “No problem. All that fighting was kind of hot.”

With a laugh reached out and put her hands on his biceps, as much to reassure herself as to keep herself study. The crying jag had left her lightheaded. “Yeah. It kind of was.”

Clarke sighed and looked up to meet his eyes, finding a calm concern there she thought she could depend on for the rest of her life. “It was my mom.”

“What did she do? Does she know about the drop ship?”

“No, she doesn’t know about the ship. She thinks we’re dating.”

Bellamy stared at her for a full ten seconds, “The idea of dating me is that bad?”

She wasn’t sure if he meant it to be funny but she couldn’t help but smile at the injury in his voice, and how far off he was with his assumption. “No. It’s not.”

He shifted his hands so while she still held on to him, his own big hands cupped her elbows. “Then tell me.”

“It’s everything, Bellamy,” she sighed. “It’s coming back and facing everything again and then she comes up to me and asks me if we’re dating on the account we spend so much time together.”

“With the exception of the past few months, that’s nothing new.”

Clarke smiled again, but it barely reached her eyes. “Good point. She doesn’t want us dating, because according to her, you’re a bad influence on me.”

But when he didn’t argue with her she felt her temper spike again, “You’re not a bad influence on me Bellamy, how could you think that?”

“It was my idea to take off the bracelets,” he reminded her. “Whatever we want, right?”

“And you were right. Whatever _we_ want. You may have not have had the most altruistic intentions but you had every reason not to trust the Ark or the council. They’d killed your mom, jailed your sister.”

“Killed your dad,” he reminded her softly. “Put you in jail.”

“I was naïve,” she sighed, and going with instinct, rested her head on his shoulder. “I thought they would save us. But when it came time to save our people from the mountain? You were the one who saved them.”

“Hey, I didn’t do it alone,” he reminded her.

“But I didn’t do good like you did, Bellamy. While you were saving our people I was running from missiles and abandoning a whole town. I was the one who shot the president and pulled the lever-“

“Hey,” he let go of one of her elbows and tipped her chin up with his finger, forcing her to look at him. “You didn’t do that alone.”

She didn’t argue, but she also didn’t tell him there was a difference between what she’d done and what he’d done.

“So when my mom said you were bad influence, a bad boy phase and then she said-“

“She said what?” he prodded when she cut herself off.

Clarke swallowed hard, “She told me how she didn’t think my dad would approve of my choice of company.”

“Fucking shit. She used me and your father against you?”

Clarke felt a single tear fall down her face but she was too angry to wipe it away, and her nod was jerky and awkward. “What would my father think? You know what, I’d love to ask him but he’s dead. Because of her.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“Yes.”

Bellamy tugged on Clarke’s shoulder, pulling her towards him and she stumbled into his hug, but she was empty of any more tears and instead of crying just held on.

He knew how much she’d loved her father. Even when the two of them hadn’t really liked each other he’d known that much. The hug told her without words he understood how much it had hurt to have that loss, that grief, used as leverage against her.

As he always understood and gave her what comfort he could.

And it was everything.

_A port in any storm._

She wasn’t sure where she’d heard the quote or where it came from but she knew it was wrong. _Only this port,_ she thought, _in any storm._

“I’m sorry I left.”

Bellamy pulled back and looked down at her, clearly confused about the sudden change in conversation. “Clarke, you already-“

“No. Let me get this out or I never will. I thought that leaving was the right thing to do. Leaving you,” she corrected, “was the right thing. But it turns out I was wrong.”

“Damn right you were.”

“I’m not going to say I realized it at soon as I left because I didn’t, I honestly thought I was doing what was best but I was in this little room in Polis right after I’d gotten the summons from the high commander.” Her arms were still wrapped around his middle, her fingers clutching the shirt he wore as if afraid he would pull away.

“I was panicking because I didn’t know what to do and all I could think was if you were there you’d know what to do. And if you didn’t, we’d have figured it out together.” She took a breath, ready to rip out her heart and throw it at his feet. “I have never missed anyone as much as I missed you in that moment.”

Clarke forced herself to look up and meet his eyes and the emotion there, in those rich brown eyes was enough to take her breath, enough to make the silence which held between them stronger than the noise of the woods around them.

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

His voice was so entreating she felt her heart stutter at his feet, “Because I was terrified. Because we finally had a chance at peace, at real lasting peace with the Trikru and I couldn’t risk that. I thought that by keeping you safe it would somehow make up for I’d made you do in the mountain.”

“That’s bullshit, Clarke. That’s such bullshit. I would have made the same decisions as you.”

“If it had been anyone else but me in that room Bellamy, you wouldn’t have been in there at all,” and that she knew was a truth he couldn’t argue.

“If it had been anyone else in that room, our people wouldn’t have made it out alive. It was us, Clarke. Right from the beginning it was always going to be us.”

She nodded because she knew that now. “I know it’s late but can we go to the dropship? I’m not ready to go back.”

He brushed her hair away from face, tucking loose strands behind her ear with a soft smile, “Anything you want.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke makes an admission which changes everything and Bellamy's response is predictable. Also known as the chapter in which they finally do it.

On the path towards the dropship, Bellamy and Clarke walked side by side whenever possible, their hands linked and fingers intertwined. Instead of talking about things like mountain and mothers, the topic had shifted to a friendly debate about what, if anything, they should bring from the Ark to the dropship.

“We can’t take anything from the Ark,” she repeated for what he was sure was probably the hundredth time. “It would be stealing.”

“We’re criminals, remember?”

She sighed, but there was an undertone of amusement to it that pleased him.  Clarke didn’t smile or laugh nearly enough.

“Just because we _were_ criminals doesn’t mean we have to keep being criminals.  Besides, if we stole supplies from the Ark and they found out about it later it would negate anything we’d accomplished. It would look like we couldn’t do it without them, without their supplies.”

Not being able to refute her point but not wanting to yield it, either, Bellamy fell silent.  

“You know I’m right,” she said after a few moments.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Fine, but can we agree we need to do this on our own, without the Ark or their pilfered supplies?”

“What if they’re not pilfered?” he asked as they moved single file to follow a narrow trail, hands still linked behind him. “What if they’re ours?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Raven and Wick’s scraps,” he explained. “That’s stuff the Ark would have thrown away if Raven and Wick hadn’t found a use for them. Clothes we’ve been given, blankets we’ve been offered. Those are ours now, Clarke.”

“Not technically.”

“We’ve been working like hell since we came back to the camp. Don’t you think we’ve earned those things?”

The trail widened enough for them to walk abreast again. She was quiet as they walked along, as if thinking over what he’d said. It was a shame her father wasn’t alive to see the kind of person she’d grown up to be.  No matter what Clarke thought of herself, Bellamy couldn’t imagine anyone being anything but as fiercely proud of her as he was himself. “You may have a point,” she finally conceded.

“I won? Nice, I’ll put it on the scorecard.”

“Haha,” she mocked but when she saw his lips quirk at the corners she tugged on his hand. “Do you really have a scorecard?”

He grinned and nodded.

“Show me.”

Ahead, he could make out the last landmark before they’d enter the gates protecting the dropship. He shook his head. “You just want to know if you’re winning.”

“Am I?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out when I’m dead,” he retorted.

He stopped before walking through the gates they’d made less than a year ago. A thought struck him, and as it did, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, keeping her hand in his so her arm draped across her chest.

“We’re going to a need a name, princess.”

Her lips tipped up in a smirk. “You mean something besides the delinquents?”

“We can be the delinquents all we want, but it’s not the name of a town,” he pointed out. “The name of a people. We’re not Trikru and after this we won’t be Sky People either.”

“Centenaria,” she decided after a second of thinking about it. “It means-“

“I know what it means,” he cut her off. “It’s Latin, for the one hundred. Clever.”

“I thought so.”

“You know what your father would have thought about the dropship?” he asked as he took in the place they’d call home again in a just a few short days. “He would have been proud of what you’ve survived, of what you’ve created. He would look at you and see how strong you are, how brave you are. If your dad was alive, Clarke, he’d be so damn proud of you.”

She dropped his hand and turned to stare at him as if she’d never heard English before and he was about to shuffle his feet nervously when he saw the quiet hope in her eyes he’d do anything to keep alive. “Why do you think that?”

“Because of who you are. I think you got that from him, Clarke.” He brushed hair away from her face. “And anyone who doesn’t look at you and isn’t proud of who you are is an idiot. I don’t know if it matters at all, but I’m proud of you.”

Clarke stepped close enough he could feel the brush of her body against his. “It matters a lot, Bellamy. You matter a lot and if my dad had a chance to meet you…well, he probably wouldn’t have approved at first.”

He chuckled at her wry tone and ran a hand over her hair, smiling at the way she leaned in to the touch like a cat.

“But eventually he would have warmed up to you like I did. He would have loved you because I did. Because I do,” she corrected. “I love you, Bellamy.”

The world stilled around him as if the entire universe was focused on this moment. That despite the fact in the grand scheme of things he and Clarke weren’t important, the entire cosmos and most of the stars had all conspired to make this moment possible.

That Clarke Griffin could love a broken thing like him.

He tried to think how they’d gotten here, from angry antagonists to platonic partners to…the phrase _soul mate_ beat against his ribs in time with his heartbeat but the words stuck in his throat.

Bellamy Blake, who could convince a hundred delinquents to go to war against the grounders, couldn’t find the words to tell the warrior in front of him he loved her too.

Sometimes, he thought, words couldn’t do the heart justice.

He leaned forward with every intention on kissing her senseless, but she held up a hand, putting it on his chest as if to stop him. He held there, waiting for the word ‘go.’

Praying for it.

“This could be a very stupid idea,” she murmured when his lips were only a breath away from hers, their eyes locked on each other.

“Wouldn’t be my first,” he teased so when he kissed her, when he finally kissed her, he was smiling.

 ##############################

She heard him murmur her name as she raised herself on to her toes so she could drag out the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck when he pulled back to brush errant hair away from her face with an almost unbearable gentleness.

Worried he was about to pull away entirely she curled her fingers in his hair to keep him close. “I swear to God, Bellamy, if you’re about to say something about stopping or some shit about wanting to wait for whatever reason I will kill you where you stand.”

“I was going to say,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers as his fingers slid underneath the hem of her shirt. “Let’s move this to dropship.”

“Okay, yes. Let’s do that.”

He ran his hands up her ribs as he nipped at her lip and Clarke relished the shudder it incited under her skin. They stumbled their way towards the dropship, exchanging kisses and murmurs as their lips and tongues found each other again and again until Bellamy was forced to pull away to open the dropship’s door.

Clarke leaned against the metal of the ship to catch her breath and enjoyed the view of Bellamy’s muscles as they moved beneath the thin cotton of his shirt, turning the crank which opened the dropship’s door.

His hair fell over his eyes and it was a hot fist in her gut. She wanted more. She wanted _him_ even more so nowthat she knew what those curls felt like between her fingers and she knew how those muscles felt beneath her hands.

And the idea of being here, in the dropship, for their first time together had a solid, cosmic _rightness_ to Clarke. Here, where everything had begun.

_“If the air’s toxic, we’re all dead anyway.”_

_“You don’t have to be here.”_

_“What did he do to you?”_

Once the door was open Clarke barely registered the scent of stale air and dust as she reached for him again, taking hold of his shirt to tug him into the quiet shade inside, then pulling it over his head. A second later, she yanked off her own shirt and tossed it in the same direction she’d thrown Bellamy’s.

Then she was against him, skin against skin, a shock of contact that made her catch her breath, the small sound lost as he kissed her, deep and long, until she was dizzy with want. She felt it snap in her veins and burn her skin where his fingers touched. She’d wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss Bellamy Blake and holy hell, it was a singular experience.

He tilted his head while his hand cupped the back of her neck, her own fingers gripped his shoulders, desperately trying to maintain her sense of gravity.

His hand slid higher, beneath her bra, fingers curving beneath the warm softness of her breast. Clarke gasped into his mouth while his other hand tangled in her hair.

“Fuck,” he murmured between deep, unsteady breaths. Somehow, the word sounded like a prayer.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But don’t stop.”

His chuckle was low and rough and the sound traveled down Clarke’s spine with something like anticipation, “Not on your life.”

He had long fingers, something she’d always known objectively. She’d seen them enough times wrapped around the butt of a gun or held out to help her up but it was a different sensation altogether to have those fingers wrapped around her curves.

Tugging, pulling, kneading. Leaving their mark on her skin, the kind of bruises which didn’t leave scars or nightmares behind.

The kind of bruises which left her wanting more.

God, he knew how to kiss but it was those damn hands that made her knees shaky.

His other hand traced her spine, then dipped beneath the waist of her jeans, tightening on her hip, pulling her closer. His touch felt almost cool compared to the flush she could feel covering her entire body. Her own hands twined through his hair and she relished in the texture of his crisp curls twisting around her fingers.

“Bellamy,” she whispered against his lips and she hoped he understood what she couldn’t say.

“Me too, Clarke. Me too.”

Shedding the rest of their clothes, they dropped to a pile of blankets which had served as someone’s bed months ago, neither of them caring that it was covered in dust or that bits of dirt clung to their sweaty, slick skin.

He braced his weight on one arm as the other hand skimmed slowly over her, as if attempting to learn every dip and curve so he could commit to memory.

His lips quickly followed.

She closed her eyes as she focused on the path of his mouth down her stomach, the brush of his lips and warm touch of his tongue on the dampness of her skin and she was absently wondering if he could taste the salt from the sweat on her skin when his fingers searched out the wet heat between her legs.

A whimper escaped her lips. Just a little more, she thought. A little more pressure, a little more friction but he kept his touch maddeningly soft and light as his lips continued to roam over the rest of her body. Wrapping her hand in his hair again, she guided his mouth to her breast where it could do some good. She could feel the curve of his smile against her.

“I should have guessed you’d be bossy.”

“Shut up,” she ordered, but the force of the command was lost in a gasp when he finally stroked his fingers against her the way she’d wanted, teasing her clit. _Shit,_ did he ever know what he was doing? She could feel her climax building, but when it was still just out of reach, he shifted, moving his hands to press her thighs farther apart. She made a small noise of frustration as he moved lower, kneeling between her legs.  Meeting her eyes in the half light of the dropship, he pressed a kiss against her inner thigh.

She grabbed handfuls of the blankets to keep from reaching for him.

“Can I get you to beg, princess?” he teased.

“Oh my god,” she hissed even as she felt her hips arch off the blanket. “I hate you.”

The grin he sent her was insufferable and quite possibly the sexiest thing she’d ever seen in her life.

“Tell me what you want, Clarke,” he murmured against her skin.

“You,” she admitted. “Please, Bellamy.”

At the first brush of his mouth against her center, her head fell back and she closed her eyes again.  She gave herself over to his fingers and tongue, no longer caring about the small moans and broken words escaping her as liquid strokes and feathery touches kindled heat again, deep and low, rising until she was lost in it, lost in heat and want and Bellamy.  

“I need you, Clarke,” he said, hoarse. She opened her eyes to see his face over hers, eyes so dark with desire she couldn’t tell the iris from his pupils.

His voice was hoarse, his lips were wet, and his eyes were so dark.

“I need you to say it again,” he begged as he slid inside her. “Say it again, Clarke.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him in deeper. She didn’t need to ask what he wanted to hear.

“I love you Bellamy. I love you.”

He kissed her till she was dizzy. “I love you too,” he whispered, resting his forehead on hers as he moved inside her, his pace quickening to a frenzy. Yet it was the easiest thing in the world to match him, letting the wave build between them until it broke over them, pulling them down together into the dark.  

##############################

There was little more in Clarke’s life she could remember enjoying more than being naked and warm and curled against Bellamy Blake with her head resting on his shoulder.

“Probably shouldn’t have said the L-word while we were horizontal on a dirty blanket.”

“Hmm,” Clarke agreed, stretching against him. “Better late than never.”

Idly, she studied at her hand splayed across his chest, at the stark contrast in tone between his skin and hers. In her mind, she mixed colors together to find the right shade of gold and brown to paint his skin. Lightly she brushed her fingers along the lines of his sternum, following the bones to his ribs until he reached out to still her fingers.

“That tickles,” he muttered.

Clarke stilled her hands with a smile, but retained the information for future use, never knew when it might come in handy. “We should go.”

“Mhm,” he agreed, but made no move to get up from the bed. Instead, he pulled Clarke closer to his side, shifting to get more comfortable on the blankets beneath them.

“We have stuff to do,” she reminded him but followed her instincts and dropped a kiss on his chest.

She felt his finger trail up her arm and back again, a lazy kind of touch she could get used to if she let herself. “Lots of stuff,” he agreed but didn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Like getting back to Jaha.”  

He groaned, “Are you trying to convince me to get out of bed or stay in? Because if it’s getting out you’re doing a terrible job at it.”

“Bellamy,” she scolded.

“Clarke,” he mocked.

She rested her chin on his chest, “It’s going to start getting dark soon and duty calls. We need to tell the others about the possible move.”

“Duty sucks ass.”

She laughed, loving the feeling of her chest vibrating against his, “We can pick this up later.”

He looked down at her with those dark brown eyes, “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Fine,” he groaned, dropping a kiss on her lips before rolling off her and grabbing his clothes. If she admired him as he pulled on his pants she told herself it was purely from an artist’s perspective and not as someone who had traced and tasted those same lines in the afterglow.

“Stop staring and get dressed,” he ordered with a grin over his shoulder. “Or I’m liable to get distracted and we won’t get out of here till tomorrow.”

“They’d send a search party,” she reminded him but gathered her clothes and dressed.

“And wouldn’t that please your mother,” he teased as he held out a hand to help her up. Once she was standing in front of him she attempted to fix her hair, but figured it was most likely a lost cause at this point.

“How bad does it look?”

“Probably as bad as mine,” he shrugged as he wrapped his arms around her waist in a friendly hold. “But it was worth the inevitable looks we’ll get when we get back.”

“Inevitable looks?”

“Mostly from Raven,” Bellamy explained before she saw his face fall. “Actually, there’s something I, uh, should probably tell you.”

“Tell me about what?”

“About me and Raven.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke prepare to tell the delinquents about their plans for the dropship and leaving the Ark, but Octavia still has reservations about Clarke being back in Bellamy's life

By the time they got back it was late in the evening and Clarke had a new hickey on her neck which, thankfully, her hair covered.

After assuring him his past entanglements with Raven didn’t matter _(“we didn’t even like each other then and if Raven needed someone, I’m glad she had you”)_ they’d proceeded to make out for a good fifteen minutes before Clarke’s stomach had grumbled loud enough to ruin the moment.

“I never did get around to getting lunch,” she’d shrugged as he laughed.

So they’d headed back down to Camp Jaha and grabbed what was left from dinner while Monty sat next to them, talking about a fight which had broken out earlier in the evening between two Arkers.

Beneath the table Bellamy’s feet were touching Clarke’s and she kept smiling down at her food.

“And then Nathan had to break it up,” Monty was explaining with a grin. He’d obviously enjoyed the fight way too much. “And I’m going to be honest, it was pretty freakin’ hot.”

“And of course that’s a totally objective observation,” Bellamy pointed out. “After all you’re only dating the guy.”

“You don’t have to be dating a guy to think he’s hot,” Clarke argued on Monty’s behalf.

Bellamy grinned and leaned forward, “Oh really? Do tell.”

She pointed a finger at him as she tried, unsuccessfully, to school the smile off her face. “I’m not feeding your ego. Is everyone okay from the fight? Did Nathan get hurt?”

“One of the guys has a broken finger but your mom fixed him up, Nathan was able to avoid injury.”

Bellamy looked over at Clarke and saw worry cross over her face. Instead of reaching across the table to take her hand, he shifted so beneath the table his leg pressed against hers in an attempt to reassure her.

“What kind of mood was the great chancellor in?” Bellamy asked after she sent him a small smile.

“Oh,” Monty looked at Clarke with an apology in his eyes. “Yeah, I heard you guys got into it. She seemed tense, I guess. Kind of short but she wasn’t outright rude or anything. Have you seen her since you got back?”

“No,” Clarke sighed. “But I guess I should sooner rather than later.”

“Tomorrow’s early enough, princess.” Bellamy looked to his right where Monty sat, “Can you get word around we want to talk to everyone tomorrow morning during breakfast?”

“Sure, what for?”

“We have some news we want to share with everyone.”

“If it’s that you two are sleeping together the ‘I just got laid’ written across your foreheads is pretty clear.”

“Classy as always, Monty.”

“I try.”

Bellamy smiled at Clarke and she simply rolled her eyes and went back to her dinner. “It’s about something slightly more important than my and Clarke’s sex life.”

“Says you,” Monty laughed.

“Just spread the word and grow up.”

“I can spread the word but I make no promises on the growing up part,” he grinned. “Can I get a clue about the topic?”

Meeting eyes with Clarke for a moment they had a quick and silent conversation, “It has to do with the dropship.”

“Yeah? Interesting. Okay, I’ll see you guys in the morning. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Bellamy waited till Monty had walked away before he tapped Clarke’s foot with his own, “You okay with everyone knowing about us? Because I’m pretty sure they’re about to.”

“Of course I’m okay with it. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Shrugging, Bellamy pushed food around his plate till Clarke tapped her foot against his shin. When he looked at her, she directed a half-smile at him. “Don’t be hard on yourself. That’s my job.”

He smiled, but knew he needed to redirect their conversation and he wasn’t happy about it. “We should talk about Jasper.”

Clarke sighed and pushed her plate away. “I know.”

“We should invite him to the powwow tomorrow. We can’t leave him out.”

She nodded, looking so sad Bellamy would have tried to move the world an inch to the left if would have made her smile. “It won’t be easy, but I suppose it’s not supposed to be.”

“I’ll be there with you,” he reminded her. “We’ll face it, and him, together but I think we should have Raven be the one to ask him to the meeting. I think she’ll have a better chance of getting him to show up.”

“Okay. Do you want to find her and I’ll meet up with you back at the barracks?”

He wasn’t sure if she meant it as an innuendo so he ignored it, not willing to come on to her while she was thinking about Jasper and the mountain. “Sounds good.”

She grabbed their plates as he pushed away from the table but before he was able to walk away she called his name. “Your place or mine?”

The sadness lurked behind her smile, but he thought if he couldn’t move the world, he’d try to kiss the sorrow away.

“Yours. I’ll be there soon.”

Clarke nodded and headed off to drop off the dishes to whomever was on duty while he veered off to Raven and Wick’s workshop. When that proved empty, he changed his route to the barracks, reasoning if Raven wasn’t in her shop, she’d be in her room.  

Halfway there, he spotted her dark ponytail switching back and forth ahead of him.  Hurrying to catch up, he touched her elbow so she would know he was behind her. “Hey, we’re going to talk to everyone about the dropship in the morning during breakfast. Can you reach out to Jasper?”

She scrunched her face in a comically uncertain look. “I can certainly try but you don’t actually think he’s going to come with us, do you?”

“No,” Bellamy admitted. “But I’m not about to leave him out, either. He’s one of us and even if he hates us I want to give him the chance to go back to the dropship if he wants.”

Raven tilted her head and Bellamy enjoyed the familiar swing of her hair behind her shoulder. “You’re secretly an optimist, aren’t you?”

“I’d hate to ruin the mystery,” he assured her, kissing her cheek as he hurried past her and down the hill.

He had a date with a blonde, but first he needed to talk to Monty.

 ##############################

 Finally back from her trip with Lincoln, Octavia knocked on Clarke’s door. A suspicious shuffle and murmur of voices came from the other side of the door before Clarke spoke up.

“Yes?”

“It’s me,” Octavia called back. “I was going to ask you if you knew where my brother was, but I’m going to assume the answer to that question is yes.”

“What do you want, Octavia?” Bellamy asked.

Octavia absolutely did not want to think about what her brother had been doing on the other side of the door with the princess because ew, gross.

“Lincoln and I just got back from the village and I went to your room because I thought you’d want an update but you weren’t there.”

“Obviously.”

His voice was dry enough to make Octavia smile despite herself. “Can you and Clarke maybe get dressed so I don’t have to yell through a metal door?”

“One sec, Octavia,” Clarke assured her.

She waited almost patiently until Bellamy opened the door wearing only his pants while Clarke wore a t-shirt Octavia recognized as Bellamy’s.

“This is new,” Octavia remarked.

“And none of your business,” Bellamy warned her. “What’s going on?”

“The village is willing to give us their cart and horse, day after tomorrow only.”

“What do they want in exchange?” Clarke asked from her place on the bed where she was still under the blankets.

“They’re building some new houses next week, they’d like for some of us to go over and help them so it’ll go faster.”

“Easy enough.”

Octavia nodded, “Which is why Lincoln and I agreed for you. They’ll bring the cart and horse here mid-morning but we’ll need to bring it back the next day as soon as possible because they’ll need it for carrying lumber. Can we be ready to leave the camp that quickly?”

Bellamy looked at Clarke who shrugged, “Looks like we don’t have much of a choice.”

“We’ll be ready,” Bellamy promised. “We’re meeting in the morning to tell everyone about the dropship if you and Lincoln want to be around during breakfast.”

“I’ll tell him,” she promised and swallowed her pride and what was left of her anger to meet Clarke’s gaze across the short distance. “It will be good to get back to the ship, so thank you, Clarke, for making it possible.”

Clarke seemed surprised at Octavia’s sincerity and she mentally scolded herself for being so hard on the other woman. “Of course.”

With a nod Octavia stepped back towards the door, “I’ll let you guys get back to whatever you were doing and see you in the morning.”

Bellamy grabbed her hand and leaned forward to kiss her forehead and she smiled at the old habit she remembered from her childhood. “Thank you for going Octavia. I knew I could count on you and Lincoln.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll talk to you guys later. Night.”

She found Lincoln in the room they shared, sitting on their bed with his sketchbook in his hands. She took a moment as always to appreciate the big man who chose to create instead of destroy.

The best thing to have ever happened to her, after falling to the earth, was getting kidnapped by him.

“We’re good to go on the trip,” she told him. It didn’t shock her one bit he didn’t seem surprised she was behind him. He had ears like a damn wolf.

“That’s great.”

“I found Bellamy in Clarke’s room.”

He finally looked up from his sketch. After he studied her face, he set the book down. “Are you okay with that?”

She shrugged, “It’s not really my business.”

“He’s your brother. It might not be your business to interfere, but as Bellamy’s sister it is your right to have an opinion.”

“Bell was bad enough when she left and they were just friends. What happens if she leaves again after their together like this?” Octavia asked with a heavy sigh, sitting on the bed next to him. “I’m terrified it’ll destroy him.”

“I don’t think you’re giving either of them enough credit.”

“She did it once, Lincoln, it’s not impossible to think she might leave again.”

He nodded and reached out to take her hand. “It may not be impossible, but it is improbable. She left to heal,” he reminded her. “She doesn’t have a reason to leave now.”

“You think she’ll stay.”

“I think she’s been wanting to come home for a long time now,” he admitted. “And now that she is, now that she’s got Bellamy, there will never be a good enough reason to leave again.”

“Am I allowed to threaten her?”

He smiled and leaned forward for to kiss her, “I would expect nothing less.”

Satisfied and more settled now after talking to Lincoln about it Octavia sat next to him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Show me what you’re drawing.”

“Well,” he said as he reached for the book. “I was sitting here thinking about you…”

 ##############################

 Nathan found his boyfriend in the workshop next to their room.

There was a great deal of noise coming from the machine in Monty’s hand and because he didn’t trust the sparks flying from the metal he kept his distance until Monty stopped to inspect his work.

“What are you still doing up?”

Turning, Monty pulled off his goggles and set them on the workbench. “Bellamy asked me for a favor and I got caught up,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to be in here so late.”

Nathan walked up behind Monty and looked down at the large piece of metal the size of…well, the size of Monty.

There was pencil sketches along the right side of the metal while the left had already been deeply carved away by the tool in Monty’s hands.

“Centenaria?” he asked. “What’s this for?”

“Not entirely sure,” Monty admitted. “Bellamy said he’d explain it later but I figured it was for Clarke.”

“It’s a hell of a present,” Nathan pointed out. “How did you even get a piece of metal this big in here?”

“With difficultly,” he laughed, rolling shoulders Nathan knew would be stiff from sitting in the same position for hours. “Do you have the morning free for the meeting?”

“No, but I can take a quick break in the middle of my shift to drop by. I’m going to head back to bed, my shift starts soon.”

“I’ll come with,” Monty slid off his stool. “The rest can wait till the morning.”

“So. Clarke and Bellamy?” Nathan asked as they went back to their room.

“Apparently. Though I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Pretty sure no one is going to be surprised,” Nathan remarked wryly. “But I’m surprised it happened so soon. She only got back a few days ago.”

“I don’t know Bellamy as well as I do Clarke,” Monty admitted. “But I think if they want to be together it doesn’t matter long or how quick it took them to get there. It’s not like we can plan on a long life, after all. Got to take the happy where you can.”

“Yeah,” Nathan agreed, reaching down to take Monty’s hand. “I guess we do.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The delinquents are told about the possibility of going home to the dropship, but not everyone is excited about the idea of going back. And even as Bellamy and Clarke make plans for the future the past six months are still hovering over their shoulders

Jasper leaned against the wall of the barracks,keeping himself apart from the group, as he had since he’d gotten back. Monty and Miller were close on top of one of the table tops. Wick leaned back against a table with Raven standing between his legs and leaning against him. Their arms were linked and their fingers tangled with each other's and Clarke allowed herself a smile at their silent declaration ‘we belong together’ before clearing her throat and greeting what remained of the hundred.

It was hard not to think in absolutes with Raven and Wick finding a way to build a life together, with Lincoln and Octavia who had fought through so much to be together. Not to mention Harper and Lee who had found a quiet kind of love in the midst of change, or Monty and Miller who had taught each other how to laugh and smile after so many nightmares.

But with Bellamy…with Bellamy, things were so much more complicated and infinitely simpler.

When she’d come back she’d been terrified. Terrified of seeing her mother, of seeing her friends, of looking them in the eye knowing what she’d done. With Bellamy, though…with Bellamy it all faded somehow. Still there, still apart of her, but instead of being terrified or weighed down she knew she could handle it.

With Bellamy, she was starting to believe she always could.

“We’re going to try and keep this short and sweet so you guys can get back to your day,” Bellamy announced before giving her floor.

“The Trikru have given us land,” Clarke explained to the group. “When I went to Polis, Lexa’s commander wasn’t happy about what she chose to do. She went back on her word and that’s not allowed, so as an apology they offered to help us get started as restitution for not getting our people back from Mount Weather.”

“Why haven’t we heard about this?” Monty asked, shifting on his seat till his shoulder brushed against Miller’s.

“Because they didn’t offer it to the Ark,” Bellamy answered. “Or the council. They offered it to us, the hundred. We would be on our own.”

“We’ve been on our own since we landed,” Octavia spoke up. “If we left we wouldn’t have to deal with the chancellor anymore. No offense.”

Clarke shook her head, “No offense taken. Getting our people out of Mount Weather would have been a lot easier and a lot quicker if we hadn’t had to go through or around my mother the entire time.”

“They’re never going to accept us,” Bellamy reminded the group, his tone harsh. “We’re always going to be the delinquent kids they sacrificed for the greater good. We’re warriors now, but they’ll never see that. They refuse to see it.”

“They took away most of our guns,” Miller admitted. “They’ve limited what we’re allowed to do. Even as a guard I’m not allowed to carry a gun, just one of the batons. It’s like we’re back in the Ark’s prison doing work release.”

“Where would we go?” Harper asked as she picked up a slice of fruit from the breakfast plate she and Lee were sharing.

Though he still wasn't looking at her, Jasper had raised his head and Clarke could tell he was paying closer attention to the conversation now. “Bellamy and I were thinking we’d go home.”

“The dropship?” one of the voices in the back asked, but Clarke couldn’t be sure who it was.

“Yes,” Bellamy confirmed. “The dropship along with ten acres to the north. Enough to build on, enough to start a community of our own.”

“Close enough for help but far enough for independence,” Octavia nodded her approval.

“Basically,” Clarke agreed. “So we’ll need to take a vote.”

“What about people who don’t want to stay with the Ark?” Octavia interrupted, her hand reaching to take Lincoln’s. “People who weren’t part of the 100.”

“Lincoln can come if he wants,” Bellamy told her. “Wick too.”

“Ah, gee, thanks guys. I think I’m going to cry.”

Raven elbowed Wick but she smiled as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

Clarke turned to Bellamy, a quick meeting of the eyes. They had talked before about the possibility of people outside their group of delinquents wanting to come with them to the dropship but they hadn’t come to a clear decision but in that quick moment they made a quiet, and final decision together before they both nodded.

“You know it’s really weird when you two do the telepathic link thing.”

Both of them ignored Raven’s observation but Clarke glanced up at Bellamy at being called out on the inexplicable connection which made them _them_ and she could feel something settle within her at the familiarity of the connection, of the instinctive knowledge of what the other was thinking and the private laugh in his dark eyes.

“We can’t let just anyone else in now. The space will only support so many. We’ll go, we’ll settle and once we know more about how we’re going to live and how it’s going to work we’ll talk about letting other people in on a case by case basis.”

She didn’t mention what they all knew, there would be space for newcomers because they had lost members of their family, of their tribe in the year since they’d fallen. Wells' image flashed in her mind. She wondered what he would have thought about what they were doing, if he’d be surprised by her relationship with Bellamy or by her choice to leave her mother.

Would he approve of the delinquents walking away from the security of Camp Jaha to risk the wilds of the ground on their own? And then she remembered how he’d done exactly that only a year before when he’d made the decision to leave his father and the safety of the Ark to follow her to the ground.

Wells would have approved, she decided, and then he would have grinned and called her crazy.

Clarke decided not to mention there would probably be members of the remaining hundred who wouldn't be following them, either. Murphy, for one; he'd disappeared with Jaha shortly before she'd left, and as far as she knew, nobody had heard from him since.  From Jasper's stance, she'd bet he'd be another who'd choose to stay behind, and she couldn't blame him for it.  

“Let’s take a vote. Anyone in favor of leaving the Ark once and for all raise your hand.”

The vote was nearly unanimous. The only person who didn’t raise a hand was Jasper, who simply walked away without a word.

There was a moment of heavy silence before Bellamy cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. “Okay, pack up what you have because we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Harper clarified as if she’d heard wrong. “Why so soon?”

“Because Jasper’s probably on his way to tell Clarke’s mom,” Monty replied soberly, and in a gesture of comfort Miller wrapped his arm around Monty’s shoulder.

Clarke sighed, she hadn’t realized that’s what Jasper was doing but she couldn’t say she was particularly surprised. “So I guess I better go talk to my mother.”

“We’ll talk to your mother,” Bellamy corrected, laying a hand on her shoulder before meeting the eyes of his friends, his family. “We leave tomorrow, mid-morning, because the local Trikru village is allowing us the use of their horse and cart to carry our stuff to the dropship. Pack up guys, we’re going home.”

“Thank God,” Octavia muttered. “These fences were starting to get to me.”

 ##############################

“You’re doing what?”

The cold snap of anger was about what Clarke had expected from her mother.

While they had patched things up after the Mountain, Clarke’s leaving without saying goodbye had seemingly done irreparable damage to their relationship. Now that she was leaving again, Clarke didn’t see much hope for it ever getting better.

“We’re leaving,” Bellamy repeated when Clarke didn’t reply to her mother. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Where exactly do you plan on going?” Kane asked smoothly, but there was a hint of something in his eyes Clarke didn’t quite trust.

“To the dropship,” Clarke informed them, finding her voice. “Which has been granted to us by the high commander of the Trikru, along with the ten acres to the north. We’ll be living there from now on.”

“This is your home, Clarke.”

“No,” Clarke shook her head, felt the blonde strands of her hair brush against her arm. “This is your home, Mom. I’ve barely spent three weeks here.”

Abby’s arms swung out, gesturing vaguely towards the barracks where the delinquents lived. “But the other kids, surely they don’t want to leave the safety of Camp Jaha.”

“What you call safety, we call being caged in,” Bellamy countered. “We have no freedom here and won’t as long you continue to treat us like second rate citizens.”

Kane, ever the politician, stepped in. “If there’s a problem with the way you feel you’re being treated when we can talk about it.”

“You’ll give us guns?” Bellamy challenged. “You’ll give us representation in the council? You’ll give us the freedom to come and go from the camp without getting permission first?”

There was a look of hesitation and apprehension which passed between her mother and Kane and Clarke knew before her mother spoke there would be no changes.

“We can certainly talk about restoring some of those privileges.”

“Restoring would imply we had them in the first place.”

Kane stepped forward then, his hands up as if approaching a wild animal and Clarke supposed with Bellamy’s tight jaw and fisted hands he probably looked a little uncontrollable to Kane. “Why doesn’t everyone just take a moment to take a deep breath and calm down so we can discuss this?”

“We are calm,” Clarke bit out. “And it’s decided. We took the matter to a vote and we’re all agreed. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want, but it’s what we need.”

“You’d abandon your people?” Abby asked softly.

“No,” Clarke assured her. “I’m taking them with me.”

“Those kids aren’t your people, Clarke,” Abby snapped, her voice going hard and still managing to sound incredulous. “Those…those-“

“Delinquents,” Clarke supplied with a raise of an eyebrow. “Is that the word you’re looking for?”

“They aren’t your people. They were troublemakers and law breakers.”

“And so am I!” Clarke raised her voice, taking a step forward. “Treason, remember? The same crime that got Dad floated. But it was that need to make sure everyone was safe, that everyone had a chance that allowed me to make the hard decisions in that Mountain. It was Bellamy’s desire to protect his sister, his family, which gave him the courage to risk his life in the mountain. Without Monty’s brain we’d never have had a chance. Without Jasper’s courage the hundred would have been killed before Bellamy could get to them.

“Those kids, those delinquents, they’re heroes and the fact that, after all this time, you still can’t see that just goes to show how much you don’t understand. We’re leaving in the morning, with or without your blessing, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.”

Abby opened her mouth to say something else but Clarke stormed out before her mother could make her any angrier. Fury and frustration clouded her vision, and she almost swung out when long fingers wrapped around her arms. An instant before she clenched her fists she recognized the touch as Bellamy’s, his voice attempting to soothe her as she allowed him to turn her to face him.

“Hey, sweetheart, take a breath,  he said soothingly.

It was then she realized she was having another panic attack, could feel in a disconnected way his hands smoothing back her hair, almost petting her in an effort to calm her down.

“Breathe.”

“I can’t.”

His lips pressed against her forehead. “Take a deep breath, count to five. Let it out, count to five. Good, do it again.”

She followed his instructions, focused on her breathing and his fingers in her hair. Eventually, the panic receded and it no longer felt as if a tree was sitting on her chest.

“How did you know how to do that?”

“Had my own share of panic attacks in the past six months,” he reminded her. “Raven’s usually the one calming me down though. Are you okay? You look pale.”

She reached up to twine her fingers with his, “I’m better. Thank you.”

“Honestly, that didn't go nearly as bad as I thought it would.”

Clarke smiled, but it felt weak. “We should go check on everyone.”

“You should lie down.”

She wanted to, desperately, but after being gone for so long she had a lot to prove to the hundred, to Bellamy, and she wasn’t about to sit out what would be the third most important day of their lives.

The first being when they fell, the second would be tomorrow when they left.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll meet up with you later though?”

He eyed for a moment as if he wasn’t sure he believed her but he eventually nodded. “Find me if you need to.”

Clarke nodded, already determined to get through the rest of the day on her own.

 ##############################

With dinner came planning.

Octavia and Lincoln had joined Bellamy, Clarke, Raven, and Wick for the late meal before the grounder and the younger Blake headed off to finish packing.

Bellamy couldn’t help but feel excited about the plans they were making. This wasn’t just a pipe dream, this was really and truly happening.

Wick had a little notebook, probably made by Lincoln as he seemed to be the hundred’s main supplier of notebooks and sketchbooks, and was making notes of things he and Raven would have to do as the community’s engineer and mechanic.

Despite Raven’s leg diminishing what she was physically capable of doing she was still going to be in charge of most of the construction. Since Harper had shown an aptitude for mechanics, Raven had been showing her the ropes, especially how to do the things Raven no longer could.

Apparently Lincoln and Wick had been discussing for some time the possibility of building housing which would allow people to move out of the ruins of the spaceship, so between Wick’s engineering know-how and Lincoln’s practical experience they’d quickly come up with a few options which would work for the land and the tools they would have.

It wouldn’t be easy, but Bellamy was certain it would be worth it.

“We’ll build Clarke’s house first with the infirmary attached,” Bellamy decided after they’d finalized blueprints for how each of the small wooden huts would be constructed.

There was an assumption at the table by Raven and Wick that Clarke’s house would also be his (there was an amused, knowing look shared by the couple) and he wasn’t sure if it was his right to correct them.

“What, no.”

Looking to his right his eyes landed on Clarke’s stubborn face, an expression he knew all too well. “No, you don’t want the infirmary attached?”

Clarke blinked at him before shaking her head, “No, we don’t build my house first.”

“Yes, we do.” Considering the conversation done he turned to Raven. “Then I was thinking-”

“Bellamy.”

He cut her off before she could attempt to argue any more. “You can’t debate with me on this one Clarke, it’s decided.”

“Bellamy, just listen-“

“Fuck that, Clarke. Unless, of course you don’t want us to build an infirmary because you don’t plan on sticking around for long.”

Clarke leaned forward, an angry spark in her eyes but instead of biting at him she merely stood up and walked away, her shoulders stiff and her spine ramrod straight. For a moment he thought about following her, apologizing for a remark he had said without thinking, but stayed seated because there was truth to the question.

Even as he loved her, he waited for her to leave.

“You know, I always thought after you two had sex you’d both chill out some.”

Bellamy turned to look at Raven, torn and unamused.

“Everyone knows you guys stayed in Clarke’s room together last night and yet here you sit, still cranky.”

“Because sex with Wick always mellows you out,” Bellamy accused.

Raven shrugged. “Well, he’s also a pain in my ass.”

“Having sex with Raven always makes me happy,” Wick chimed in, kissing Raven’s hand as she laughed.

Bellamy put his hand up and stopped him from saying anything more. “Can we focus please?”

“No, but you can.” Wick stood up and offered his hand to Raven. “We got the workshop packed up today, but we need to go finish our room so you and Clarke can battle whatever that was out and let us know who the winner is later.”

Raven took Wick’s hand, and Bellamy saw her slight wince as she straightened her leg. He couldn’t help but be thankful, for what seemed like the hundredth time, that Raven had found someone who cared for her and about her, who always put her needs first.

Raven didn’t have to worry about waking up one morning to find Wick gone.

Bellamy glanced in the direction Clark had left and was torn between staying and going after but he wasn’t ready to apologize. Not yet. 

Sighing, Bellamy grabbed the dinner plates and took them to the washing station before sulking back to the barracks.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke says goodbye to her mother, and with the rest of the delinquents leaves Camp Jaha to make the trek to the dropship and finally go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long to update, but thanks to the goddess who is my beta (nocturnalrites) here is the latest chapter.  
> the epilogue should be posted by thursday.

When Clarke came back to her room Bellamy was there, sitting barefoot on the edge of her bed, elbows propped on his knees and a look of barely tempered frustration on his face.

It was a look she hadn’t seen since before she’d left.

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“Walking.”

“For an hour?” There was something about his tone and the expression on his face which reminded her of a wall. Flat and hard, she fell cut off from him completely despite being only a few feet away.

Clarke turned away to pull off her jacket, buying herself time to think. “I had a lot on my mind,” she evaded.

“Is this going to become a pattern Clarke?”

“Is what going to be a pattern?”

“You walking away.”

She hadn't had the breath so thoroughly knocked out of her since the time she'd been thrown by a carnivorous gorilla and still his face revealed nothing.

“What are you talking about?”

“I make one comment and you walk away for an hour? What’s going to happen when we fight, Clarke? What happens when we all get to the dropship and we get pissed at each other? I can’t be worried that every fucking time I call you out you’re going to leave me to do this on my own.”

There was something about his casual posture which sent a cold shiver of fear down Clarke’s spine. If he was angry she wished he’d get up and yell. Sitting made it seem as if he’d already given up.

“It was one time,” she reassured him. “It’s not like I left for good, it didn’t mean anything.”

“It was twice, Clarke.” He looked up at her from beneath his brows, his eyes hard as they met hers. “You walked away _twice_. And it does mean something.”

“So you’re just waiting for me to do it again?” she snapped.  If he wasn’t going to get mad she sure as hell was going to. “Is that it? My telling you I’m going to stay isn’t enough?”

“No. It’s not Clarke,” he bit out and there was finally enough spark in his eyes for Clarke to get an idea just how angry he was beneath the surface. “Octavia and Lincoln stayed. Jasper stayed even though he hates us so much he can’t bear to look at us. Even Raven, Raven who looked at a bottle of poison because the pain of being awake and alive was too much, stayed. She stayed.”

“None of them are mass murderers!”

“I am!” he yelled jumping to his and advancing on her and for a moment she saw a flash of the old Bellamy, the one who had been fierce and cold and hard as steel but despite that, someone she had never been afraid of.

“Or have you forgotten the 300 people who were forced to sacrifice their lives because I was selfish? Because I haven’t. Every day I walk around with the knowledge of those lives, those deaths, were because of me. So whenever you get angry about the death, about the blood, just remember however many souls you’re carrying around, I’ve got 300 more.”

There was only an inch or so of space between them and while hours ago there might have been sexual tension thick enough to cut through there was only anger now, which vibrated off of him in waves.

She was close enough she could see the muscles in his jaw clench, the stiffness of his shoulders, and despite the evidence of anger in each of his muscles he somehow looked unbearably sad. “I asked you to stay. No, I _begged_ you,” he corrected. “I came back.”

Clarke stared at him, confused because she had no idea what he was talking about. “Came back?”

“The day trip,” he reminded her. “You gave me forgiveness, you told me you needed me. You asked me to come back and I did but when it came time for you to do the same, for you to come back with me you walked away.”

The memory came back in an instant. The moment she’d learned he was more than a wannabe warlord, more than a narcissistic asshat who didn’t have a heart. Leaning against the tree with the pain from a gun’s recoil still fresh on her shoulder she’d met the real man behind the bravado. “Bellamy.”

“I love you, Clarke, and that’s not likely to change any time soon, but the crux of the matter is when I needed you, you weren’t there. Forgive me if I don’t immediately trust this time you’re going to stick it out when I need you to be there.”

“What’s it going to take, Bellamy? For you to believe I’m here for good?”

“Six months.” He said without hesitation.

Clarke couldn’t help but think he’d had the answer prepared and she started to wonder if he’d known this fight was going to happen all along, if she should have seen it coming herself.

“Six months?”

“For six months, every day, you woke up and whether consciously or not you decided not to come home. What I’m going to need is to see you wake up every day here and make the same decision to stay. Even when it gets hard, or bloody, or sad I need you to be there. Not just for me. I need you to be there for the delinquents, too. This whole thing is bigger than us,but I think you know that.

“During this six months, are you going to argue with me about every damn thing?” she asked with asked with a sort of exasperated affection.

“If I think you’re wrong about every damn thing, yeah.”

Clarke couldn’t help the laugh at his dry tone because yes, that was Bellamy, that was _her_ Bellamy. “Okay, six months. I’m going to need something from you during that time, though.”

“What?”

Ignoring the suspicion in his voice she tried to get through the wall between them by reaching out to cup his cheeks with her hands. “I need you to stop drinking.”

There was a quick flash of insult in his eyes so Clarke brushed her thumb across the constellation of freckles along his cheekbone to soothe away the hurt feelings.

“Because if I’m going to stay, I need to be able to come to you. When I’m scared, when I’m panicked, when I feel like I can’t breathe. I need you, Bellamy. That’s the whole reason I came back.”

“You came back for me?”

He seemed so genuinely surprised her heart hurt for him, for the boy who had never been made a priority, for the man who had sacrificed so much. No wonder he was so suspicious of her staying, no one had ever come back for him, no had ever stayed for him.

That would change, she would change it herself.

“I love you,” she reminded him with a kind of careless shrug but she kept her eyes on his so he’d know the despite how casual she said it, she meant it. “It’s why I came back and it’s why I’m not going anywhere. I love you Bellamy, that’s not going to change.”

“Fine. If you stay, I’ll stop drinking.” He let out a heavy sigh and rested his forehead on hers, “Do you want me to go back to my room?”

“No. Stay.”

Bellamy reached out and took her hand, pulling her to the bed and tugging her down to sit next to him. He grabbed her leg, turning her so he could loosen the laces of her boots and in the silence he dropped her boot, a heavy thud against the metal floor, and grabbed her other leg to repeat the task.

“You don’t think it’s going to change?” she asked, leaning forward to drop her head on his shoulder as he pulled off the second boot. “Us, I mean. Do you think it’s sustainable?”

“You mean like Monty’s moonshine?” he asked with a teasing grin as he stared to rub her feet with his long fingers. “Because I’m pretty sure that stuff will a sustain another nuclear war.”

“Bell,” she warned, but there was no heat to it because she didn’t want him to stop whatever magic he was doing to her feet, his thumb pressing against her arch and almost immediately she could feel tension she hadn’t even realized she had melt away.

“Yes, I think we’re going to change. Yes, I think we’re sustainable. We’re going to change and evolve Clarke, there’s no helping that. There’s nothing to say we can’t change and evolve together, though. We’ve been through too much together, survived too much. We share a soul Clarke, and that’s not an easy bond to break.”

“You called me sweetheart earlier.”

He paused for a second, his fingers stilling, as if he was trying to remember when he’d used the term of endearment. After a moment he smiled and nodded, “I did, after you left your mom.”

“I liked it,” she sighed.

He smiled and for the first time since she’d come into her room the air was calm and warm between them, the wall he’d put up before she’d come back was down again. “I’ll remember that.”

“Can you do the other foot?” she asked.

“I don’t have any idea what I’m doing,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“It feels good,” she told him, resting more of her weight on his shoulder. “All of it.”

He looked up from her feet and she shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed against his arm, “This. You being here at the end of the day. Even the arguing. It’s the best feeling I’ve had in a long time, Bellamy.”

Bellamy leaned forward and kissed her, soft and languid, till she felt boneless. “I’m right there with you sweetheart.”

##############################

 Clarke faced the doors to the council room with shoulders stiff and her back straight and while she tried to remind herself she wasn't going into battle, everything in her told her she was about to do just that. Taking a deep breath, she touched the fabric tied around her wrist, drawing strength from it.

_“I can go with you, if you want.”_

_She was settled against his chest, his arm wrapped around her. They both knew it was time to get up, time to get ready to go but instead they laid there, stealing a few more moments before everything changed again._

_“No. I need to do this by myself.”_

_“You really don’t, Clarke.”_

_She levered herself up so she could look down at him. “Maybe not, but I do know I need to do this on my own. My mom has to know I can face her without you standing behind me and holding me up. And I need to do this for me.”_

_He’d nodded and tore a strip of fabric off the blanket covering them and took her hand to tie it around her wrist. “There, now I’ll be there with you.”_

She’d been speechless at the gesture, to full of love and wonder there hadn’t been any words to express it so she’d kissed him instead.

And now all she had to do was enter her mother’s territory, her mother’s world, to say goodbye.

When she pushed open the door, the first thing Clarke saw was Abby and Kane talking. They were standing close, nearly leaning into each other and the sight reminded her of what Raven had mentioned on her first day back, about there being something between her mother and her mother’s former antagonist.

Smirking, she touched the fabric on her wrist again. Maybe she wasn’t so different from her mother after all.

“We’re getting ready to start packing.”

The two adults shared a quick glance before turning to look at her and Clarke braced for the worst.

“We understand you’re taking some of the Ark’s supplies with you,” Kane started and Clarke was thankful she and Bellamy had discussed this already. She’d borrow his words.

“We are taking what the delinquents have earned during their stay here,” she corrected.

“Earned?” Abby asked.

“They weren’t given wages for the work they did while they were here. Farming, security, working in the mess hall. Instead, they were given blankets, food, clothes. Those are the things they are taking with them. Or are you suggesting they were indentured servants while they were here and not entitled to compensation?”

“They were prisoners.”

Clarke clenched her fists, unable to believe they were really going over this again.

“They,” she stopped herself when she realized she’d followed her mother’s lead of excluding herself from the other delinquents. “We were given pardons. That means since the moment we hit the ground, we weren’t prisoners anymore. We deserve to be treated with the same respect as every other person in this camp. And don’t say we can talk about making changes,” she added before Kane could repeat his offer from before.

“If you were going to do that you would have done it by now but you haven’t. You aren’t going to. And if the only way we can treated with the respect we deserve, the respect of people who have fought and survived and lived against all odds, is to leave than that’s what we’re doing.”

“Kane, can you give me and Clarke a minute?” Abby asked.

With a nod he touched her elbow and left, shutting the door behind him.  

“If he locks that door, you should know Bellamy knows where I am. If you think you’ve seen him pissed off before you have another thing coming.”

“You don’t think he’d leave without you?”

“I know he wouldn’t. He loves me,” she shrugged. “Honestly, I’d be a little worried he’d burn the place down to get to me.”

And if there was a smile on her face when she told her mother the truth, it couldn’t be helped.

“Love?”

“I didn’t lie to you before. We weren’t together when you asked me if we were dating, but we’re together now. I suppose I have you to thank for that. We’re going to be together for as long as he’ll have me.”

“He’s a drunk.”

“And I’m a runner. Turns out we’re better with each other. That’s true for all of us Mom, all the kids you sent down here to make sure the ground was livable. We shouldn’t have worked. We should have killed each other in the first week, and believe me, we tried. Somehow we’re better together, and that’s why we’re leaving.”

“You’re leaving me, Clarke.”

Clarke understood the pain in her mom’s voice. “No, I’m not. You might think this is easy for me, but it’s not. You’re my mom, you’re always going to be my mom, but I don’t just have me to think about. There comes a point where I have to do what’s best for my people.”

“If you go, that’s it.”

Her heart stuttered against her ribs, but Clarke tried not to let her heartbreak show. She hadn’t thought her mother would take it this far, to sever their relationship when once they were all they’d had left.

And maybe that was the change. There had been a time when her parents and Wells had been her entire world, but then her father had died and she’d been sent to the ground and Clarke had learned the truth of her mother’s betrayal.

Not so long ago there had been thousands of miles of distance between mother and daughter and despite the fact they’d both been on the ground for months they’d never quite made up the gap.

Clarke could blame it on the choices her mother had made, the blood on her own hands, but the memory of Octavia’s words echoed in her head. Her mother had wanted a sheep, her father had raised a wolf.

Maybe things would have been different if her father had lived to be the bridge he’d always been between the women in his life but he was gone. Clarke knew Abby’s posture matched her own and she knew this shared trait of theirs, stubbornness and a sense of rightness, meant there would be no meeting of the minds.

“Okay. That’s your decision.”

“No, Clarke. It’s yours.”

“Bye Mom, I love you.”

##############################

Bellamy was grateful the morning broke warm with a slight breeze, it would make the trip home easier if they didn’t have to deal with a heavy and impressive heat.

Some of the delinquents who'd had no one to bid farewell had gone ahead leaving at first light with whatever they could carry. The rest milled around the cart or the gates waiting for the signal to leave. Lincoln and Octavia were leaning against the cart, the bigger man smiling at whatever Octavia was going on about. If Bellamy didn’t know better he’d swear his sister was flirting.

Raven sat on the back of the cart to prevent her injuries from causing her pain during the trek., Wick stood beside her, his hand on her knee as they talked to a gray haired woman Bellamy assumed was Wick’s mom.

Within there were goodbyes Miller and Monty were hugging their parents but instead of tears or sadness there were smiles all around. These were people who would stay in touch, who would remain family even with the distance of miles and hours.

Bellamy’s family was coming with him and there, walking out of the ship which had fallen from the sky, was the last of his family coming towards him.

Clarke looked sad but determined, her eyes looking straight ahead. Eyes in which Bellamy thought he saw the glint of tears as she got closer.

“Everything okay?”

“No,” she admitted. “But it will be. Are we ready to go?”

“All set.” He turned to catch Octavia’s eye, “Give the signal will you?”

She grinned and he had a quick flash of the girl he’d given piggy back rides to as she raised her fingers to her lips to let out a loud, ear piercing whistle.

Within minutes they were walking out of the camp and towards home.

It took hours to reach the dropship but the atmosphere had been almost jovial, laughter and water being shared as they trekked through the woods made the time fly and quicker than Bellamy could have hoped for they turned the last corner of the trail,

When he stopped the delinquents instinctively huddled around him and Clarke.

Dropping his pack on the ground he looked over his shoulder and met a pair of jet black eyes. “Monty?”

There was a shuffle of noise and a few grunts before he and Miller dragged a large piece of metal to the front of the group, just before passing through the gates they turned it so everyone could read the freshly engraved sign.

_Centenaria._

Clarke found tears were clogging in her throat at the sight of the sign, of something permanent to mark what was theirs, what they had named and what they would create.

From beside her Bellamy touched her shoulder and smiled down at her before stepping forward to face the delinquents.

“We didn’t want to call it camp,” Bellamy explained, raising his voice to make sure everyone could hear him. “Camp doesn’t sound permanent. This, whatever it is, is permanent. And ours. This isn’t going to be easy, but we’ve survived this long because we have always been there for one another, because when it counted you knew the person standing next to you would give everything. Because some already gave all and we honor those we’ve lost by coming back here and making something of what we started. This is Centenaria, It means the one hundred in Latin. May it last.”

The crowd hooted and hollered before streaming into the camp, the atmosphere suddenly festive and exuberant. Grinning, Bellamy made his way back to Clarke.

“You just couldn’t help yourself,” Clarke accused but she could feel the smile on her face grow.

“There’s no going back now, princess,” Bellamy announced, throwing an arm over hers shoulder. “These kids are never leaving this dropship again.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist and let herself soak in this new kind of interaction, familiar and new, warm and welcoming. “Good, it’s theirs. This is where we’ll plant our roots.”

Pausing she thought about where they were, everything which had happened, “Well, maybe not right here,” she corrected. “This place should be sacred and I think we should build the houses to the north and the farming we should-“ she stopped herself, remembering what was and wasn’t her place now. “I’m not telling you what to do.”

“I know,” he assured her as his fingers played with the ends of her hair. “But I think you’re right. I’ll talk to Raven and Wick tomorrow about irrigation and shit. You know, Monty asked me if this was going to be permanent. If we were going to be here longer than just a few months or years.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That as long as we’re still alive, this is home. He nodded all seriously and then walked away,” Bellamy shrugged as he seemed to realize she was still carrying her pack and reached out to take the burden from her shoulder to hold it at his side.

Clarke looked around her, at the thick woods ever reaching starward, visualizing the houses they would build out of them. Real, actual houses like the ones she’d seen in history books.

More than houses, Bellamy would say. They’d build homes.

And once the trees were cleared away it would make room for farming, and while Monty had respectfully declined learning about Grounder techniques, three different people were willing to take lessons from the local Grounder tribe.

They’d grow their own food here, build their own lives here and this time there’d be no fences keeping the world at bay.

“What did your mother say before we left?” He shifted closer and lowered his voice, “Was she still mad or…?”

Clarke watched Bellamy set their things down away from the majority of the noise and the crowds and she appreciated the semblance of privacy and quiet, appreciated he’d waited until they were alone to ask the question she could only assume he’d been tempted to ask since they’d left Camp Jaha early that morning.

“Still mad,” Clarke confirmed. Instinctively, she crossed her arms defensively as she told him the conversation she’d had with her mother. “She still thinks this is some kind of teenage rebellion or something.”

“Screw your mom,” he said without any heat. “What do you think this is?”

Clarke looked up at Bellamy, surprised by the question and even as she thought about it her lips curved into a smile. “Permanent.”

“Then hold onto that, because that’s what this is. This is the start of something, Clarke. No matter what your mother or the council does, they can’t take this away from us. This is ours.”

Ours.

The word held in the air betweenthem as something changed in his expression, and she could feel the same shift somewhere near her heart. They were no longer two individual people working towards a single goal, no longer a ‘you and me’ they were an ‘us.’

Clarke smiled, standing on her toes to kiss him, letting the moment draw out and not caring who watched, who could see.

“What do you think they’ll call us in history books?” she asked him, her mouth only inches away from his.

“That’s a good question. You’ve got the Trikru, the Mountain Men, Sky People.”

“Technically we’re Sky People,” she felt the need to remind him as his hands shifted to link low on her back, her own arms looped around his neck in an easy embrace.

“Not anymore,” he argued. “Arias, we’d be the Arias.”

“Of the Centenaria lands,” she nodded. “I like it.”

“Oh thank God,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, rolling her feet to stand on her toes so she could kiss him again. “Shut up.”

Clarke knew there were difficult times ahead, for the delinquents and for herself and Bellamy but she knew they would all survive if they stuck together and as the crowd behind them raised their voices in a cheer, with Bellamy’s lips on hers, she couldn’t think of a better to start a new beginning.

Again.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's six months after the delinquents left Jaha to make their own way and Monty presents them with a memorial to honor those they've lost and everything they've accomplished. Bellamy pulls Clarke away from the crowd to tell her a story and to make her a promise.

Their clothes were the first things to change. When their old clothes, detailed and manufactured on the Ark, had worn out they were replaced with the cloth they’d traded from the Trikru and the leather the delinquents had fashioned themselves.

From the animals they caught they made jackets, following the natural lines of the skin to create a product which was too thin to be mistaken for Trikru and too simple to be from Camp Jaha.

It made them different.

They’d built their homes, square buildings with no windows but a hole in the roof which allowed each house to have a fire. There were doors with locks, a smoke house, and a small pen where they kept the goats which Monty and Harper had carefully named.

Over the months they’d traded Clarke’s medical services, Wick’s brain, and Raven’s hands for chickens and cotton, creating a sort of communal living situation which resembled the Ark but couldn’t have been more different.

Here there was no Section 17 and Section 1. Everyone got their share if they worked for it, and if they didn’t (they were delinquents after all) they made decisions about consequences as a group.

Calmly, for the most part.

The peace wouldn’t last, it couldn't, but for the moment Clarke couldn’t think of anything wrong with the world as she waited along with the hundred gathered at sunset by the dropship per Monty’s request. Bellamy's arm draped over her shoulders and her own arms were wrapped around his waist while she pressed her cheek against his chest.

God, it felt good to lean on someone. To lean on _him_.

“All right, Monty, why are we all standing around here like a bunch of idiots?”

Clarke chuckled against the cotton of his shirt but Monty ignored Bellamy as he all but bounced to the entrance of the dropship, a sheet draped over the door.

He’d informed everyone the day after they’d arrived at the dropship no one was to look at what he’d made until he’d said it was okay and everyone was scared enough of his boyfriend they all seemed to have complied.

“Okay, so I wanted to do something for us.” Some of the spirit left his body and his voice lost some of its bubble, “We lost a lot to get here. But we gained a lot too.”

Monty’s eyes slid over to Miller and the two men smiled at each other before Monty cleared his throat and raised his voice again to be heard across the group.

“So I wanted to make something to honor that, to honor the people we lost to get here and everything we’ve lived through.”

He looked over his shoulder where Octavia tugged on a corner of the sheet, pulling it down so it slid silently to the ground, revealing an intensive and detailed work of art.

At the top was the word Centenaria, and the year the town had been established. Underneath was a list of names. Clarke didn’t have to count them to know there’d be a hundred.

“Monty,” she whispered, but her friend had heard the soft exclamation and met her eyes across the small distance.

“For all of us,” he told her, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.

Bellamy squeezed her shoulder and gave her a short nod before she stepped away to get a closer look at the wall as others moved forward to read the names etched into the metal.

Clarke smiled when she read the words. Seeing they were in alphabetical order suited her orderly heart. She skimmed her eyes along the wall until she found herself in the middle of the alphabet. Then her fingers brushed along the name which put an ache in her heart.

_Wells Jaha*_

She rubbed the pad of her fingertip over the asterisk and immediately understood what it meant.

“You okay?”

Clarke nodded and leaned against the hard wall of Bellamy’s chest, tilting her head back to rest just below his shoulder.“Yeah.”

“Then why are you crying?’

She reached up and touched a hand to her cheek, surprised to feel it was wet. “It just hits me sometimes, how much I miss him.”

“I’m sorry.”

Clarke turned and looked up at him and immediately recognized the grim set of his lips, the furrow of his brows as guilt and she knew this wasn’t something they should talk about with delinquents all but pressing against them. She grabbed his hand and led him away from the door until they something resembling privacy.

“You’re sorry for what?” she asked.

“He’s dead because of me, Clarke.”

Clarke pressed her lips together and glanced down for a moment to grope for the right words. “What happened was Charlotte’s choice.”

When he didn’t say anything she grabbed one of his hands and met his eyes. “You told me what you said to her. It was her decision to twist it like she did. And maybe that’s everyone’s fault, but I don’t blame you, Bellamy. I can promise you one thing, Wells wouldn’t either.”

She glanced at the dropship door, saw people looking at their own names with grins, and at the names of people they’d lost with reverence.

Not far from them Clarke saw Octavia and Lincoln and she knew Octavia must be telling Lincoln about Atom, about the first boy she kissed. A few feet away Wick had his arms wrapped Raven as she stared at what Clarke was certain was Finn’s name.

“There’s a lot of history on this wall,” Clarke murmured.

“A lot of history still to be made,” Bellamy promised, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

He took her hand and led her away from the dropship into the growing twilight.

“You’re not leading me into the woods to kill me, are you?” she teased.

“Hell no, princess,” he laughed and the heaviness between them lifted away with the sound. “No way I want to deal with these kids on my own. I need at least one rational person around here.”

She could tell he was leading her towards the farming land, where the wheat and the corn hadn’t yet risen higher than her waist but instead of walking through the crops he stopped them just at the edge of the clearing and leaned in close to her ear. “What do you want to wish for?”

Confused, she looked over her shoulder at him.  He was close enough she could see the freckles on his cheeks even in the purple tinged darkness. Grinning, he pointed up to the sky and she saw the streaks of light across the sky above them. First just one every few seconds but as she continued to watch the brilliant flashes of light increase as if the universe was trying to one up itself.

“Oh, my god,” she murmured, struck by the sight.

“Monroe told me the other day there was going to be a meteor shower. I thought you might like it see it.”

She was speechless for a full ten seconds before she turned to face him. “It’s beautiful, Bellamy.”

“So?" he prompted. "What would you wish for?”

Clarke could easily remember the last time she’d stood like this with Bellamy, with that question hanging between them. He’d been standing at her side then too, watching the flares fly and fall above them, but things were so different now. They no longer lived in fear, they were no longer fighting for survival every damn day and she no longer looked at Bellamy as the enemy, as a reluctant ally.

He was her partner, and even that word seemed too small to encapsulate everything they were to each other.

“What about you?” she evaded. “What would you wish for?”

He shifted on his feet which sent alarms through Clarke. She knew everything there was to know about Bellamy Blake and he only shifted on his feet like that when he was nervous.

And Bellamy being nervous made her nervous.

“So, there’s this really old myth called the Red String of Fate and it states people are born with this invisible red string tied around their wrists.”

“How do you know it’s red if it’s invisible?”

He sighed and looked down at her with an affectionate roll of his eyes and she put up her hands in apology so he could continue.

“Anyway, the story goes that this string tied around your wrist is connected to another person, someone you’re destined to meet. Now there’s different versions, some of them say the string connects lovers, others it connects soul mates, and there’s even this one version where is just connects you to someone who will be important to your life.  It could even be someone you hate.”

She didn’t know what to say, but it was obvious he wasn’t done. Whatever speech he was giving her was obviously prepared and she waited patiently for her turn.

Bellamy tugged up the sleeve of his shirt. On his wrist was a piece of red leather tied together. In his hand was an identical wrist band, though one obviously much too small to fit him.

“It’s been six months since we came home, Clarke. Six months of you waking up every day and choosing to stay, and six months of me not drinking so I could be there for you. For the delinquents. And if there’s one thing those six months have taught me, it’s you are one of the most important things to ever happen to me.”

He took her hand and wrapped the leather around her wrist, tying off the string as he spoke. “If I could wish for anything Clarke, it would be that no matter where we go from here, no matter how many lives we end up living, that my red string always connects to yours. I don’t care what we end up being, even if we’re enemies, but I don’t want to live a single life without having known you in it.”

She reached up and pulled him down to her, letting the kiss warm and heat and settle into embers between them.

“Soul mates,” she whispered against his lips, and could feel the curves of their smiles brushing against each other. “In this life we’re soul mates.”

“It’s stupid how much I love you, Clarke.”

“Right back at you.”

With a grin he pulled away. “Monty was set up for a party at the dropship. Let’s head back and I’ll buy you a drink.”

“How about I buy you a drink?”

He laughed and draped his arm over her shoulders and led her back to where the others had probably already started a bonfire while Monty’s alcohol was likely being brought out. “Whatever you want, princess.”

“No,” she corrected with a smile. “Whatever _we_ want.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know that the red string of fate actually states the string is wrapped around the pinky or the ankle, depending on the origin, but i figure after a hundred years myths and stories change a little with each retelling and somewhere along the way the string moved to the wrist
> 
> Please go by [Kaley's](http://leadingrebel.tumblr.com/post/128713059331) page and like/reblog the amazing artwork she did as part of the BigBang we were both a part of because she did such a great job, I'm so blessed  
> 


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